Soul Survivors
by Valtira
Summary: Sam and Dean discover a new entry in their fathers journal which leads them to a small town in Indiana. They must uncover the dark secret hovering over the terrified town.
1. Chapter 1 For whom the bell tolls

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did. I'm sure you can all guess what my birthday wish was!

**Author's note:** I wrote this before Bloody Mary came out – it was way to similar so I have changed, rearranged and added a few characters. Hope you like.

**Chapter 1 For Whom the Bell Tolls**

They were hunters, hunting both the living and the dead. Only a few knew of their calling, but those few had seen the destruction and lived to tell about it, vowing to keep their secret.

Not all of the hunters' contacts had been so lucky. Many had not survived their encounters with the darkness and it tore at the hunters.

Now they hunted for one of their own. Their father obsessed with finding the evil creature that had taken his wife had gone missing nearly three months ago. The trail had gone cold but that didn't stop them. He had left behind his journal. A book filled with events of the most unusual kind. Anyone who read it would have thought it a work of Fiction or an over active imagination. The hunters knew better. Everything in the book was real, devils, demons, ghosts and poltergeists. They had encountered the creatures first hand, barely surviving some of the encounters. It was their strength, resourcefulness and the bond of brotherhood that kept them alive.

Their own history had not been gentle; their mother had been taken from them when they were very young. The darkness now claimed her as one of its own. Fire had consumed her, drawn her out of their world and into a world they were only now beginning to understand. It was a place of darkness of pure evil, a place that stole men's bodies and devoured their souls.

Dean stood leaning against the front fender of the car. He was a handsome young man, but his upbringing had been rather unusual. He was comfortable with weapons, handling guns, knives, swords and even explosives had been a big part of his young life. He was a warrior, yet his was a jaded soul, he had learned many things growing up. How to read people, this talent had kept him alive on more than one occasion, but there were other things learned that if he stopped to think about it would have bothered him. He had learned to lie, cheat and even steal to stay alive. Over the years he had learned to hide himself away. Not just change his appearance but hide his feelings and emotions, walling him away from any who might try to get close or love him.

He had learned early on that no matter how much you loved someone, they always went away. His mother had gone away, now his father had gone, even his little brother had left him, choosing instead to seek a life that didn't include chasing ghosts and goblins. Dean sighed in frustration and regret as he looked at his brother. Sammy was back.

Sam was nothing like him. Honest to a fault he had a hard time dealing with the lies they told day after day. Lies that usually ended up saving someone's life didn't mean that it wasn't still a lie. Most had been little lies, as they pretended to be cops or reporters, scientists or game wardens doing their utmost to gain access to places and situations where the darkness had struck.

Like his brother Dean, Sam had seen too much. He'd been only a baby when his mother had been taken. He had overheard his father describing the scene, blood dripping from the ceiling where his mother had been held. Her face white and terrified as fire erupted around her consuming her. He had seen it first hand when his fiancée was taken. Seen her face, seen the terror in her eyes, but he had been helpless to save her. He had even dreamed of it days before but had brushed it aside, chalking it up to stress and his brothers' dark forebodings. Now it was too late.


	2. Chapter 2 The hunt begins

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 2 The Hunt Begins**

His dad's journal lay closed on the hood beside him. His eyes were trained on his younger brother Sam asleep in the front passenger seat.

They were at a standstill. They hadn't heard from their dad in weeks, 'or had it been months,' Dean thought wryly. The journal he had left them was a riddle, leading them down a crooked path to nowhere in particular. 'Why had his dad been so cryptic? Why couldn't he have been just a little less obscure and mysterious and told them straight up what they were facing?' Where the hell was he anyway? Dean didn't want to think the worst – that his dad was dead. He didn't know that, didn't want to contemplate the thought.

He was worried, worried about his dad, but mostly worried about his brother. Sam had only been a baby when his mother had died. Had he seen his mother's death, seen the creature that had killed her? He had certainly seen his girlfriend die, consumed by the same flame that had killed his mother. Was he somehow the key to all the nightmares? The killer was elusive and Sam was the only connection Dean could find but he wasn't about to tell his brother that. Sam was plagued with enough guilt already.

Twisting right his left elbow hit the journal sending it flying across the hood. It landed with a hollow thunk in the mud beside the front passenger side tire. Dean swore softly. There was no breeze to speak of yet the book fluttered open as if someone were turning the pages. The pages slowly settled, opening toward the back of the book.

Mumbling in disgust Dean leaned down to pick it up. His eyes caught the writing and he frowned in confusion. Even though he'd been through the book a hundred times the article and writing displayed on the pages were unfamiliar. "What the hell," he murmured in surprise.

Sam woke slowly. His mind still foggy with sleep he pried one lid then the other open to hear Dean grumbling a few feet away. Chuckling he opened the door saying, "Making mud pies big brother – aren't you a little old for that."

"Ha, Ha, little brother" Dean snarled back.

Picking up the book Dean swiped at the mud to wipe it off before laying it on the hood again. "Hey Sammy you've looked at the journal, have you ever seen this entry before?"

Sam grumbled, he hated being called Sammy. "Sam," he mumbled. He didn't see Dean's smirking smile before leaning in to read the article, "Homecoming King and Queen in coma of unknown causes." His fingers traced the picture of the two side by side before reading the rest of the article. 'James Richardson was found in the boys' locker room at Fremont High School on Monday October 17, 2004 in a catatonic state. Two days later Mandy Holloway collapsed in her home. Both teenagers were taken to Mercy Hospital where they remain.'

'Neither drugs nor alcohol were found in the teenagers systems. No apparent cause could be identified. Police and school officials are investigating.' The article continued giving the reader some background on the two teenagers who's lives had suddenly been cut short. A similar article was clipped to the opposite page. 'A young teenager, Joseph Erickson – Homecoming King for 2005 was found unconscious in his home. His little brother found him battered and badly beaten. The reporter went on to speculate that the two incidents might be linked.

The second article was dated the previous week. A third article hidden behind the second showed the mangled wreck of a car. "Homecoming King and Queen Killed in Accident." Below the wreck were two small pictures of the teenagers. Dean stared at them hoping to find some clue, but they were only pictures. The three incidents were tied, he didn't know how, but in his heart he knew something was stalking these kids.

"I've been through that book a dozen times," Sam stated calmly and I've never seen this before. What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know little brother, but did you notice there's nothing about this year's Homecoming Queen," Dean stated quickly.

Sam caught his brother's eyes, "Yeah! I did."

"You up for a trip to Fremont, Indiana," Dean quipped quickly. He had to protect them, needed to protect them, find out what was going on.

Sam was already on the move headed for the driver's side of the vehicle. "Yup and I'm driving. Not even giving his brother a change to argue Sam slipped behind the wheel and started the engine.

Grumbling beneath his breath Dean picked up the journal sticking his finger between the pages to be sure he didn't loose the articles. He read them several more times on the long trip.


	3. Chapter 3 Fremont High

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 3 Fremont High School, **

Police Cars with light flashing were parked around the front entrance of the school. An ambulance, lights flashing was pulling away from the curb as they drove up. Rifling through the glove box Dean pulled out two identification badges. Attaching one to his shirt he handed the other to Sam before getting out of the car.

Crossing the parking lot Dean tapped a young man on the shoulder asking, "What's going on was there a bomb threat?"

The young man jumped beneath his touch. Wide wild eyes snapped up to stare at Dean. He looked ready to flee.

Taking a deep breath the teenager replied quickly. "Someone attacked a girl in one of the classrooms. Guess she was beaten pretty badly. That was her they took away in the ambulance."

"Can you tell me her name," Sam prompted quietly.

"Melinda Thompson."

Dean tipped his head his voice dropping low as he asked. "She wouldn't by any chance be this years Homecoming Queen?"

"Yeah how'd you know that? It's got everyone spooked. First Joe now Melinda gets beat up, same thing happened last year. Creepy man, really creepy, the young man shivered for effect and turned away breaking into a jog trot as he headed away from the school.

"What do you make of that," Dean asked cautiously.

"I think we got here just a little too late," Sam answered quietly.

Notebook and pencil in hand the duo sauntered up to the police line and flashed their badges. A tall heavy set officer stopped them before they could duck under the yellow tape.

"Where do you two think your going," he asked in annoyance.

"Reporters," Dean replied arrogantly as if that one word would gain him entrance to the White House Oval office.

"Sorry, until the Sheriff says so this place is off limits."

"Come on," Dean cajoled. "There's a big story here, with those two students last year before the homecoming game. It happened to the Erickson boy a week ago now the Thompson girl? Who's got a grudge against these teenagers officer? What about those two students last year."

Dean and Sam saw the officer sigh, but the look on his face was implacable. He wasn't going to be moved. The school was off limits.

"Go talk to the Sheriff, but I'm not letting you through without his ok."

Dean was not about to go talk to the Sheriff, their cover as "Reporters" was too thin if anyone decided to check, but he had to make it look good. "So where is the Sheriff?"

With a sly little smile the officer pointed to the school. "He's in there with the detectives."

Screwing his face into a 'ha ha, that was funny' look, Dean saluted the officer before moving down the line.

"Do you think who ever did this is still inside," Sam asked quickly.

"The cops aren't taking any chances. Even a mouse would have a hard time getting out of that place unseen." He didn't need to tell Sam it wasn't flesh and blood that had perpetrated this crime, and they had many ways to get in and out of places.

Dean stared at the building and the chaotic mass of dark blue uniforms that scurried in and out. He could read their faces, their surprise and confusion. This incident like the three before it was beyond their powers of reasoning. Other forces were at work here, forces they were unable to comprehend.

Dean scanned the area in front of the school. Most of the teenagers seemed scared and confused by the events taking place. Teachers were huddled in small groups keeping one eye on the school the other on their pupils. He saw one young man walking across the parking lot to stand alone on the grass. He was taller than average, his hair a dark chestnut brown pulled back off his forehead. His face was hard to read, but Dean saw much more than he should have. A smile was pasted on the thin lip, his eyes harsh and unyielding as he watched the coming and going from the beleaguered school.

Something wasn't right Dean could feel it, but he couldn't put his finger on it as he watched the tall figure. The face seemed somehow familiar, but he just couldn't seem to place it.

He must have felt Dean's gaze on him. Slowly he turned to face him the icy gaze stabbed into Dean but was wiped away as quickly as it had come. Dean wondered if he had imagined that look as he saw the sad smile on the youth's face and the tears streaking down his cheeks.

He continued to watch until a hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

"We need to get in that building," Sam whispered.

"How, that building is going to be off limits for days after this," Dean muttered.

Sam shrugged but his mind already at work.

"First we wait until things settle at the hospital then we go visit our homecoming queen Melinda, if she's conscious maybe she can tell us what happened. You take the hospital I need to do some research at the library," Sam told him, "Let's see what the local newspapers have to say about all this."

"You got it," Dean answered quickly but his eyes stayed glued on the lone figure as he got behind the wheel of the car.

It wasn't until they were out of sight that the young man's gaze changed. The angry spiteful smile returned. Hate filled his eyes as he stared after the car. He would remember the faces of the two men, they meant to cause trouble, and in this he was the only one allowed to cause trouble. He had seen them arrive, and knew their interest was more than just curiosity. Their presence had piqued his interest he would need to keep his eye on them especially the one who had caught his eye. He shivered as he remembered the intense gaze upon Him. Danger lurked in that hawk like gaze.


	4. Chapter 4 Fremont Library

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 4 Fremont Public Library**

Dean headed for the hospital three blocks away while Sam headed for the front desk of the town library, waiting patiently while the librarian helped a young teenager check out several books.

"Can I help you young man," the woman asked quietly.

Sam stepped up to the counter a broad smile on his handsome face, "Yes ma'am, I'm looking for copies of the local newspaper from the last couple of years."

The librarian looked at him curiously. Something about this young man stirred her interest. He looked older than most of the libraries current occupants, College age she would have guessed and wondered what he was doing in their little town. The way his gaze was darting around the room she wondered if he was hiding something. Curious she asked, "What are you looking for young man, anything I can help you with?"

Sam's gaze flashed to meet hers but his answer was evasive and if she had to guess untruthful when his eyes dropped to his hands. "Just some research for a story I'm writing."

She huffed but held her scathing retort; she had no way of knowing for sure what he was up too. But from his body language alone he was on the defensive and being very evasive. "Copies of the newspapers are on microfiche. You can find them in the reference section near the back of the library on the left. Microfiche machine are along the wall."

"Thank you Ma'am," Sam uttered quickly flashing her a quick smile as he hurried away. He swore beneath his breath, she was suspicious, why didn't he just tell her the truth that he was investigating the mysteries surrounding the High School Homecoming Kings and Queens. Dean was rubbing off on him but he wasn't the actor his brother was.

He didn't blame his brother; most people would have thought them both ripe for the Looney bin if they knew the truth about what they did. They were hunters of the darkness, defenders of the weak and innocent. Sam chuckled; it would sure make for a great movie script.

But sometimes it was easier to hide and lie than have people laugh or turn away in fear, but he sometimes had to wonder if Dean could tell the truth from the lies these days. He'd been doing it for so long it had become part of him. Shaking off the frustration Sam made his way to the reference section. It wasn't hard to find what he was looking for. The dates were consistent from year to year. The Homecoming game and dance took place the third weekend in October – next weekend, he mussed silently.

It didn't take Sam long to find what he needed. The first incident happened three years ago. Erik Robinson and Amelia Grayson were the first couple, but this couple was different. A car accident on the way home from the dance claimed 2 lives. Two couples had been in the car when it had skidded on the wet road and flipped over. Amelia died several weeks later from injuries sustained in the accident. Erik, the homecoming King had been killed instantly his neck broken. Amelia hadn't been wearing a seat belt, her head had flown into the windshield shattering it and crushing her skull. The other couple, Andrew Grayson Amelia's brother and his date Rebecca Weldon had survived but both had sustained serious injuries. Andrew had been seriously injured. Rebecca had cracked her skull and even now lay in a nursing home deep in a coma.

No one knew why the car went off the road. Many had speculated, saying that a patch of black ice had caused the car to skid out of control or a wild animal possibly a deer had jumped in front of the car, but no evidence had ever been found, the lone survivor wouldn't or couldn't remember the events of that night. The authorities had ruled it a tragic accident.

Sam already knew the names of the next Homecoming King and Queen that had been attacked. They had both fallen into comas - cause unknown. Now Melinda laid in a hospital bed the eighth victim to succumb. He prayed they could find out what was creating this havoc before the young teenagers died. Sam knew it was only a matter of time. He needed more information. What had caused the accident? Had someone had a grudge against the kids? Wondering if the townspeople would talk about the tragedies he sighed and headed back to the desk.

"Ma'am can I ask you a couple of questions," he asked hopefully.

The librarian turned to face him raising one eyebrow skeptically hesitating slightly before answering. "Go ahead," she told him.

"You've probably heard that another young woman was injured over at the high school today, Melinda Thompson this year's Homecoming Queen."

"Yes, such a shame," the librarian answered shaking her head. "If that's what you're researching I'm not sure I can add much more to what the newspapers have to say."

"This is the third year in row, I can't think of a single person who would have a grudge against these kids," she answered sorrowfully. "They were all good kids; most of them come into the library at least once a week. They would study here, do research."

"What about jealousy?"

"I don't know son, I never heard of anything like that. I know those Grayson kids were a little stuck up and having all that money would tend to make people jealous."

"The Grayson's," Sam asked quickly, "That would be Amelia and Andrew?"

"They were a handful those two, Amelia was a beautiful girl. Did you know that she won a modeling contract? She was going to be famous one day that girl. Her family was devastated when she died. It's a shame what happened to them."

"What happened," Sam asked cautiously watching the librarian as she looked away out the window rolling the information over in her mind.

"Her parents were killed, murdered the sheriff said, two months after Amelia died. They said it was a robbery, all the money and jewelry they had in the house was stolen, both were beaten to death."

"Where did this happen?"

"In their home, in the middle of the night, the sheriff said someone broke in killed them and stole everything."

"What about their son?"

"Andrew, huh," she huffed lightly. "Don't know what happened to the boy. "He was a strange one, never saw him without his sister."

It was an innocent remark but Sam filed it away for further use.

"Guess he moved away heard his grandparents came down for him. They put the house on the market but no one wanted to buy a house where people were murdered." She shivered for effect.

An elderly man shuffled up to the counter holding several books. The librarian sighed again saying, "I hope you find what you're looking for young man. It's a shame, a damn shame, this town use to be so peaceful."

"Thank you Ma'am, you've been a big help," Sam replied, but the librarian had already moved off.

He stood at the counter for several seconds contemplating the information. Was the parents' death just a coincidence? Heading back to the reference section he hunted for the articles. It didn't take him long to find them. "Murdered as they prepared for bed," the article stated. But the police had never found the murderer. No trace of who had perpetrated the crime, just a broken lock on the back door.

It didn't feel right, nothing about this whole mess felt right, he mussed silently. They had bits and pieces of information but nothing to tie the mess together. Grumbling beneath his breath he made his way out of the library and walked the three blocks to the hospital.


	5. Chapter 5 Emergency Room

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

Sorry its been so slow, I wrote this to help define my characters and lay the groundwork. It will get better. I hope! LOL

**Chapter 5 Emergency Room**

Dean parked the car and sat staring at the emergency room entrance for several minutes. Opening the glove compartment he fished through the fake identification badges. Finding what he needed he slipped the plastic card into the front pocket of his wallet. Taking a deep breath he opened the door and walked into the hospital. This was what he lived for. A rush of adrenalin pumped through his system as he fell into character.

The emergency room was a riotous mass of chaos, it looked like every cop in the city was milling around in the small room. Standing apart from the rest of the noisy crowd a tall young woman probably in her mid twenties dressed in a white uniform stood peering through the window into the trauma room where Melinda had been taken. Tears streaked down her face. Moving closer he saw what was probably the sheriff step up beside her. Fear was written clearly in her gray eyes as she looked up.

"I'm sorry about your Sister Christy, how is she doing?"

"They won't tell me," she sniffled swiping at the tears. "Why would anyone do this sheriff, Melinda's a good kid."

"I know Christy and we'll find whoever did this."

Neither of them said it, but they were both thinking the same thing. Seven other teenagers had been hurt two were dead and whoever had done it had eluded the sheriff and his men yet again. There was no evidence to connect the car accident to the other kids but the Sheriff had a hunch, everything was connected. He just couldn't find the connection. He tried to console the grieving Christy, but they both knew unless some miracle occurred they weren't going find the perp that did this.

"I'll be posting a man in her room Christy, and one will be standing outside the door. We won't let anything happen to her. I promise."

"Thanks Mike, that means a lot to me." Leaning forward she rested her head against his chest needing to feel the warmth and be close to someone.

Mike was only a few years older than Christy and had been in love with her forever it seemed. He was handsome enough, but Christy had always seemed above his touch and he had never worked up the nerve to ask her out.

They were friends. He hated that word, he wanted more than friendship from Christy!

Taking a big chance he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She didn't resist but seemed to snuggle closer.

Mike sighed. "Hey Sheriff," they both heard someone call.

Breaking apart, she heard him groan and chuckled.

"Great timing," he muttered darkly.

She smiled through the tears and blushed as his finger reached up to brush a tear from her cheek. Neither said a word as he walked away, but Christy realized suddenly that she had liked being in his arms.

Dean waited only long enough for the sheriff to get out of sight before moving in.

Christy's eyes went wide as he stepped in beside her.

"Christy, how's your sister doing?"

"Do I know you," she asked cautiously looking around for Mike.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered automatically. "I'm Dean T Magnum, I'm a private investigator."

"Magnum - Private Investigator, your joking Christy repeated?.

Dean winced, "My mom was a big fan, I just had the bad luck to be born during her Magnum P.I. infatuation period."

Christy eyed his critically. He looked a little young to be a private investigator. "What is a private investigator doing here?"

"I was hired by the Erickson's to find out what happened to their son."

"Oh," she muttered quickly. "Joe was a good kid, I liked him."

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"No, I'll help any way I can if it will find out who did this?'

"Do you know of anyone who might want to harm your sister?"

"No, no one, Melinda was well liked at school. She has a lot of friends. She liked everyone and everyone liked her. That's what makes this so scary, Joe was the same. He played varsity football, was the captain of the team, he even did some charity work down at the homeless shelter."

"Could someone have been jealous of them?"

"I suppose so, but I never heard anything about it."

"Do you happen to know who else was nominated for the homecoming king and queen this year?"

"Oh," she whispered quickly understanding where he was headed.

"There were a couple of girls, Vanessa Clarke and Sherry Roberts. As for the guys I think it was Matt Sherman and David Dwyer. They would never had done this, their might have been a rivalry yes, but this?"

"You never know what's in another person's mind ma'am," Dean answered slowly.

Mike finished his conversation and turned to find Christy, only to see a tall stranger standing beside her. His eyes narrowed a stab of jealously coursed through him.

Unaware of the sapphire eyes upon him Dean continued.

"Could I ask a huge favor Christy?"

"Sure, anything, if it will help find the maniac responsible for this."

"Will you let me see your sister's room; it might yield some kind of clue?"

Christy hesitated, she didn't know this man, but from the determined look in his eyes she somehow instinctively knew she could trust him.

"If you think it will help," she replied slowly.

Before Dean could reply a white coated doctor came around the corner. "Miss Thompson," he questioned.

"Yes," she whispered quickly.

"I hate to ask, but has your sister ever done drugs?"

"No," Christy answered vehemently, "Never."

His voice held a world of frustration as he spoke, "Your sister is battered and bruised but nothing is broken."

"Is she awake, can I talk to her," Christy asked?

"That's the problem Miss Thompson, your sister has lapsed into a coma."

"Just like the others," Christy sobbed quietly.

"I'm afraid so," the doctor answered. "We're moving her up to CCU, but unless we can find the cause I don't know what more we can do. "You can visit her in about 30 minutes just let the staff get her settled."

Christy couldn't believe this was happening. At twenty five, Christy was eight years older than Melinda. Christy had grown up quickly when their parents had died seven years earlier. Melinda had been eleven at the time, but Christy had done her best to fill their shoes and Melinda had recovered quickly from the grief that had nearly overwhelmed her. Why this, why now, Christy wailed silently.

Not knowing where else to turn as the tears quickly filled her eyes Christy turned and hugged the person closest to her. That happened to be Dean. His panicky look was comical – he didn't do emotional, but he didn't pull away either. Sighing Dean awkwardly patted her back and mumbled words he hoped were comforting. He wasn't very good with this emotional shit. Give him a gun or a knife, some ghost or vampire to vanquish and he was in heaven. This, this scared the crap out him.

Sapphire eyes watched, wishing it had been him standing close when the doctor finally gave her the news. Resigned Mike started to walk away. Glancing over his shoulder he finally saw the panic on Dean's face.

Dean caught the sheriff's eye and silently mumbled the word help and pointed to the sobbing Christy in his arms.

Mike was driven to laughter, but quickly stifled it as he crossed the short distance to Dean's side. Mike's hand gently touched her cheek.

Christy looked up her eyes wide and overflowing with tears. "Mike," she cried. Letting loose of Dean Christy practically threw herself into the sheriff's arms.

Suddenly realizing what he had given up, Dean scowled.

Mike smiled over Christy's head and winked knowingly.

Tucking her beneath his arm Mike whispered soothingly, "Come, let's get you a cup of coffee then we can go up and see Melinda."

"Ok," Christy replied on a hiccup.

After taking two steps Christy suddenly stopped and turned back to Dean. "Yes," she told him quickly, "What you asked earlier, I mean, the answer is yes." Rifling through her purse she pulled out a card and wrote her address and phone number down. Call me later tonight. I'm free tomorrow, it's my day off."

Dean took the card but Christy held on tight for a few seconds, he eyes pleading with him to find the cause and bring her sister back to her.

Dean smiled. His confidence in his abilities was manifested in his stance.

Christy knew hope, maybe it was desperation, but there was something about this man standing so boldly confident before her. If anyone could find out what was stalking their town, this man could.

Dean watched them walk away deep in thought about what their next move might be when a hand was clamped over his shoulder.

TBC

Reviews are appreciate.


	6. Chapter 6 A little talk

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 6 A Little Talk**

Dean jumped and settled into a defensive stance. The laughter that greeted him made his blood boil.

"Dammit Sammy don't sneak up on me like that,"

Sam chuckled, "What happened great warrior did I catch you sleeping. A little preoccupied with the fair maiden?"

Dean snarled but ignored the comment. "The patient as you guessed was this year's homecoming queen. Like the other three she's in a coma. That my dear Sammy was her sister."

Sam shook his head, "What now big brother?"

"Now," Dean hesitated gathering his thoughts. "Now we go find us a place to crash, some lunch and then you can tell me what you found out. You did find something out, didn't you little brother."

Sam's smirking smile was all Dean needed to see.

An hour later sitting in a booth at a café around the corner from their hotel, Dean broke the silence only after they had ordered lunch. "Did you find out anything at the library?"

"Some but not enough to tell me who's doing this?"

Dean waited expectantly, but his brothers' long pause drove him to frustration. "Spill Sammy boy or do I have to beat the information out of you?"

Sam grinned, enjoying his brother's tirade, 'tit for tat' he mussed silently, 'you call me Sammy, I make your life miserable.'

"Sam," Dean growled menacingly.

"Keep your shorts on bro, I'm getting there."

"Now would be a good time," Dean groused.

Chuckling one last time Sam filled his brother in. "It started with a car accident two years ago. The homecoming king and queen were killed but the other couple in the car survived. They were pretty badly mangled and the girl is still in a coma."

"A coma," Dean replied quickly. "Just like the others."

"What about her date, you mentioned a couple?"

"The boys name was Andrew Grayson, the Homecoming Queen's brother. No one seems to know what happened to him. He disappeared a few months after the accident." Sam paused again trying to sort out what he would say next.

"What," Dean snapped.

"What, what," Sam smirked?

"If you don't spill the bean, Sammy boy, I'm going to knock your block off!"

Sam chuckled but relented, "His parents were murdered a couple months later, beaten to death. Sound familiar!"

"Damn," Dean grumbled. "You think what ever is happening here has something to do with the Grayson's?"

"I do now," Sam replied.

It was at that point that the young waitress dropped her laden tray on the table. Soon the tray was empty and the plates loaded with mouth watering food sat in front of the duo.

Dean munched his medium well burger, thoroughly enjoying the look of disgust on his brother's face.

Sam shook his head his fork – filled with lettuce and tomato stopped midway to his mouth before he spoke. "There's enough cholesterol in that cheeseburger to clog up your arteries and mine," he mocked.

Dean licked his lips and moaned with pleasure. "Protein buddy boy, pure protein, good for building strong muscles." Poking at Sam's biceps, Dean grinned saying, "Something you could use a little more of bro. You keep eating that rabbit food and a good stiff breeze will blow you away."

"And you'll blow up like a balloon," Sam shot back.

The brother bantered back and forth for a few minutes neither giving an inch, until the young teenage waitress stopped by with their check.

She was a hot little number, if a bit young. Well endowed, her assets were practically spilling forth from the low cut shirt she was wearing. Tight jeans, displayed a well rounded ass that Dean itched to caress. Subconsciously Dean licked his lips.

But the waitress had eyes only for Sam. Unused to the attention a slight blush crept into the young man's cheeks as the waitress did her best to flirt with him. Leaning close, she exposed her well endowed assets a little more as she whispered in Sam's ear. Her fingers darted out to caress his cheek. "I love your dimples."

Reaching across him, she deliberately brushed his arm with her chest as she picked up an empty plate. "There's a live band in the park tonight, I hope you can be there," she whispered in his ear.

"I'm a little busy," Sam stuttered.

The girl pouted prettily, "I'm sure I could keep you busy instead," she cajoled.

Sam was more than a little flustered. Usually Dean was the recipient of this type of attention. Dean seemed to revel in it, but Sam was embarrassed. He looked up to find several pairs of eyes watching him. The restaurant was heavy with customers but all of them were watching him, some were amused, some just shook their heads, the men snickered knowing what the evening would hold if Sam decided to take the girl up on her invitation.

"In the park at ten, sweet cheeks," the waitress purred.

Dean waited only long enough for the girl to walk away before he started in. "Hey Romeo, guess I'm finally beginning to rub off on you. Bout time, thought you were turning into a Monk or something? She's a sweet little thing and she sure has the hots for you."

"Just drop it Dean – Ok, we're here to find out what's happening to these kids not romp in the park."

"Loosen up Sammy boy, isn't it about time you got on with life, Jessica is gone and you can't bring her back."

That hit a nerve and Dean wished instantly he could take the words back.

Sam jumped to his feet anger at his brother's words written in every line of his body. "I loved Jessica, and I can't forget her just because you want me too, so shut up Dean before I shut you up."

"You can try little brother," Dean hissed back.


	7. Chapter 7 Timely intervention

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 7 Intervention**

The world fell away as the brothers bristled angrily at each other. Before they could launch themselves across the table heavy hands landed on their shoulders. In an instant their demeanor changed, ready to strike as one if the intruder proved dangerous to either of them. "Easy boys," the Sheriff chuckled. "Sit down, and let me introduce myself he told them sweetly, but the iron in his voice brooked no refusal.

Dean wanted to refuse, but Sam's slap across his arm made him think better of it. His voice was calm and level giving away nothing as he spoke, "What can we do for you?"

"Now that Mr. Magnum is the million dollar question isn't it."

Sam winced but Dean didn't bat an eye.

"I'm Sheriff Mike McCarty boys and I'd like to know what your plans are for staying in out little neck of the woods? This little town has seen enough sorrow in the last couple of days. I don't need you boys stirring the pot any."

"And just to make certain we get off on the right foot Mr. Magnum, I talked to the Erickson's earlier today.

Dean grumbled beneath his breath, but it was Sam who spoke first. "We're not here to cause trouble Sheriff."

"Ok, then tell me the truth."

"It's a long story Sheriff," Dean interjected. "I'm sure you have better things to do – like catch the guy who beat Melinda Thompson."

Mike's eyes narrowed at the taunt. "How do I know that person isn't you Mr. Magnum," the sheriff snapped?

Dean's reaction was instantaneous. He flew to his feet, ready to punch out the sheriff for even thinking he was responsible.

Mike and Sam leaped to their feet, Sam to restrain his furious brother, Mike to defend himself, his hand flying to the gun at his right hip.

"I didn't hurt those kids," Dean growled dangerously."

"Dean," Sam whispered, "Sheriff is only doing his job. Ease up!"

Mike was more than a little confused. For the first time, after talking to Christy and the Erickson's he'd though he had a lead on the perp. In a second he knew he was wrong. Righteous indignation fueled his suspects rage, it could have been an act, but some sixth sense told Mike he was telling the truth.

"I'm sorry Mr. Magnum," Mike offered sarcastically. "So why don't you sit and tell me what you are doing in my town?"

"Dean, just call me Dean Sheriff," the hunter spit out.

Sam brushed a 'cool it' look at his brother before he spoke. "Look Sheriff, you just have to believe that we aren't here to hurt anyone. Like you we want to know what is happening to these kids. Something is causing their illness."

"The doctors ruled out drugs and alcohol," Mike answered, "Blood tests came back negative, they ran them twice to make sure."

"We're not talking about drugs Sheriff."

"Then what the hell…" his words trilled off to a dawning silence.

"You've got to be joking. You think some ghost or goblin is sucking the life out of these kids. Now I've heard it all," he chuckled quickly dismissing their theory.

Neither Sam nor Dean said a word, they chuckled along with Mike.

Suddenly Mike turned deadly serious and took a deep breath. "I never believed in the crap before, but after everything I've seen and heard in the last couple of years I'm willing to listen." He swiped a hand across his face, tired and worn, at twenty-nine Mike had the weight of the world riding on his shoulders. This town was depending on him and he was lost.

Trying for a little levity, he chuckled saying, "So what are you guys Ghost Hunters, Vampire slayers or something?"

"Something like that, Sam mumbled quietly.

Dean threw his brother a disgusted look, the lunk head just couldn't seem to keep up the charade. He just had to tell the truth. Dean was cynic, and knew the Sheriff wouldn't believe them. In a few seconds Dean knew he'd have to come up with another explanation.

Mike had expected them to laugh or something - anything, he hadn't expected that quiet admission.

"You're serious," he replied quietly.

"Deadly serious," Sam answered quietly.

"Damn," Mike grumbled wanting to laugh, but couldn't, for some reason they thought they were telling the truth – maybe they were delusional, he told himself as an explanation. Deciding it didn't hurt anything to listen to their story he took a deep breath. "Tell me what you know," the sheriff asked quickly.

Dean was surprised. Usually the truth was met with sarcasm, but the Sheriff seemed to take the information in stride. Well maybe not in stride, but he was giving them the benefit of the doubt. "Only if you tell us what you've discovered so far Sheriff," Dean inserted.

Mike McCarty was at his wits end, the town had lost six kids in the last three years. He was at a loss to explain what was happening to his town. He came to a quick decision and decided trusting these two young men was the right thing to do – at the moment. Something about them made him shiver. There was a darkness that clung to them, but it wasn't something evil, he sensed it. He would learn soon enough what that darkness meant.

Sam started, filling the sheriff in on what he'd found in the library. "Whatever is doing this Sheriff is somehow connected to the Grayson's."

"The Grayson's," Mike asked in confusion? "Amelia died in that crash, her parents are dead."

"Exactly," Sam answered. "Her parents were beaten to death."

The sheriff sucked in a breath at the memory.

"Did you see the Grayson's crime scene Sheriff," Dean asked cautiously.

Mike answered slowly, "Yes," pausing slightly while he drew the memory to the fore. "The bedroom and bathroom were torn apart. It looked like someone had beaten them with a baseball bat, but there was blood everywhere, on everything. The Coroner couldn't get a clear picture of what had really killed them. Nothing yet everything, I remember hearing him say. I should have seen it." Mike swore beneath his breath angry at himself for not seeing the connection.

"It was a long time ago," Dean offered.

"We need to see the coroners report," Sam stated quickly.

"Its in my office, the whole file is yours gentleman." Mike stood pulling his wallet out and thumping a twenty down on the table.

"You don't have too…" Sam told him quickly.

Dean's words were cut off as Mike growled in frustration, "If you can figure this mess out boys, I'll buy you a hundred burgers."

Dean turned to Sam with a smirking smile, 'burgers', he whispered smugly.


	8. Chapter 8 Discovery

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 8 Discovery**

Twenty minutes later the three men sat at Mike's desk perusing the files. Nothing seemed to jump out at them. It was Sam who spoke up breaking the silence. "What happened to Andrew, there's nothing in any of the files about him?"

"Andrew," Mike breathed out the word slowly. "Don't rightly know he spent some time in the hospital after the accident."

"What kind of injuries did he have," Sam asked.

Mike leaned back in his chair and the brothers could see the flicker of something in the sheriff's eyes as he tried to remember. Reaching for the phone Mike punched a couple of buttons waiting for the secretary to answer.

"Yes Sir," her quiet confident voice asked.

"Could you pull the file from the teenage accident three years ago?"

"Yes Sir," she purred before severing the connection.

Two minutes later the young woman knocked on the door. She didn't wait for a summons but opened the door and stepped in. Handing the manila folder to the Sheriff she asked quietly, "Is there anything else I can get you Sheriff?"

"Not at the moment Beth, thanks."

Beth was tiny and petite, her auburn hair braided down the back of her head was neat and tidy except for two wisps of curls hanging from each side of her face. Her tan uniform was crisp and the shirt and knee length skirt only accentuated her lithe form.

Turning back toward the door, her eyes flew over the two brothers and settled on Dean. A slow seductive smile touched her lips her eyes holding his as she slowly made her way out the door.

Dean watched her go, completely unaware of the other two men watching him. Sam swatted at his arm, pulling him abruptly back to reality. "Put it back in your pants Lothario, we have work to do," Sam chuckled.

Narrowing his eyes Dean shook his head mockingly at his brother, but a tinge of red crept into this cheeks.

Mike trying hard to ignore the situation did his best to hide the smile but failed miserably. "She's single and unattached," he whispered lowering his eyes to the file he still held.

Ignoring them Dean asked, "So what about Andrew?" There would be time for play later after this was done.

Pulling some pictures out of the file he placed them on the desk for Sam and Dean to see. "The car sideswiped a tree. Amelia wasn't wearing her seatbelt and was thrown through the window when it hit another tree a few feet away. Andrew was sitting behind her." Mike stopped and flipped a couple of pages looking for the information. "Ah here it is. Andrew's head slammed into the side window. The glass shattered when the car hit the first tree. The right side of his face was torn up pretty badly. He broke his right

shoulder, right kneecap and busted a couple of ribs. He spent a few weeks in the hospital."

Mike scratched his head a wry twist came to his lips as he tried to remember what happened to the teenager after his parents were killed.

"He lost everyone," Mike murmured quietly. "I heard his grandparents came for him but I don't know what happened to him after that."

"So no one seems to know where this kid is," Dean stated quickly.

"Correct," Mike mussed, "But I'm sure as hell going to find out!"

"Any chance we could get a look at the room where Melinda was attacked?"

Mike looked up quickly and nodded at Dean. They had only been in town a couple of hours. They were good, damn good detectives and had seen things he and the others had missed. They were outsiders; their emotions not yet entangled and had been able to look at all the pieces and at least breathed new life into a cold almost dead investigation.

"I'll have one of my deputies escort you out there in the morning." Standing up Mike held out his hand. "Thanks, you've given me a lot to look into and I do appreciate it."

"No problem Sheriff," Sam and Dean said together, "We only want to help."


	9. Chapter 9 Breakfast

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 9 Breakfast**

Christy had called the previous evening, getting their number from the Sheriff. She had hope now, a future that had seemed so dark and forlorn eighteen hours earlier had brightened.

Dean pulled the black impala up in front of the cozy house. Its looks were deceptive. From the outside it looked like nothing more than a small country cottage. Painted in white with light blue shutters around the windows and trim, the front porch held a brightly padded swinging chair and several wicker rockers. The walkway was lined with a rainbow of colorful flowers.

Christy was waiting at the door. "Would you guys like some coffee," she offered.

Dean sighed happily. This little town didn't offer a Starbucks so he had to be content with motel coffee. One cup this morning had him regretting the bitter brew. This then was heaven as he took the pro-offered cup and sipped, it had a familiar flavor that took him a minute to identify. Amaretto, dark roasted beans and full of rich flavor he took another larger sip.

"There's plenty where that came from, Christy laughed, "I've got breakfast ready if you're hungry."

Dean sighed longingly and glanced at Sam who chuckled and nodded.

"Yes, ma'am that would be great," stale bagels and day old glazed donuts had been the fare this morning at the motel. They had both decided to forgo that treat.

"I figured you'd need some nourishment before getting started," she laughed. "The kitchen is through here guys so come on in and make yourself comfortable.

The inside of the house was a surprise. Simply elegant was how Sam would have described it. The house was old, probably built in the thirties, but it was in excellent shape. The entry hallway was done in a dark cherry wood with a simple single bulb crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Stepping fully into the house they saw a matching set of cherry wood stairs circling up to the second floor. The floor was covered in white marble with gold flecks strewn through out. Everywhere else the boys looked they saw bright light and loving care had kept the house in pristine shape. It was beautiful, and very different from what they were used to. Their hotel had bee dingy the restaurant a greasy cafés.

Dean sat gingerly on the gold brocade chair. Everywhere he looked he saw beautiful antique furniture. It was a showroom, and he was uncomfortable. Maybe dingy hotels and greasy cafés weren't so bad after all.

Christy saw his discomfort and smiled broadly. "You can't hurt this place guys, please make yourselves comfortable and enjoy your coffee while I get your breakfast and promptly disappeared out the door. She reappeared a few minutes later bearing a tray laden with food.

Sam woofed in amazement, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon and biscuits were the main fare. The tray also revealed a selection of jam and jellies that made Dean's mouth water. Jumping to their feet they took the over laden tray from her hands and helped her place the mouth watering dishes on the table.

It was Dean who pulled out the chair for Christy. The boys knew their manners, although they had lost their mother at an early age, their dad had instilled them with old world values.

Christy smile glad she had gone through the effort this morning, they looked like they could use the comforting.

Mike had shared his feeling about them with her. She too could see the darkness that hovered around them, but like Mike she knew it was something connected to them, not what they were.

Thirty minutes later, stuffed and satisfied, they chatted amicably as they returned the plates to the kitchen. The bowls were empty, the food devoured by two men with very healthy appetites. Christy only smiled and let them wash the dishes. For a time the darkness seemed to fall away as they bantered like children over who was going to wash and who was going to dry. She didn't want to spoil their fun by pointing out the dishwasher.


	10. Chapter 10 Melinda's Room

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 10 Melinda's Room**

Sam and Dean were happy and for a short period of time had shed their cares. Their chatter continued until they reached Melinda's room. There all chatter stilled and the hunters leaped to the fore searching for clues.

The room was fairly large at least 15 x 15 Sam guessed. It was decorated in white, blue and yellow.

Dean wrinkled his nose; it was definitely a girl's room all flowery and filled with candles. A short distance away he heard Sam chuckled and turned to see what had amused him. Dean snorted in disgust; there on the back of the door were posters of Tom Welling and Chad Michael Murray.

So the Homecoming queen had a crush on some TV hotties, how typical, he growled silently.

Slapping Sam's shoulders, he raised an eyebrow and chuckled maliciously stating, "Just your type?"

Sam scowled turning away; his brother's taunt didn't deserve an answer. Even though it made him want to slap the guy upside his head.

They searched for several minutes but didn't find a single clue that would help them.

Pointing toward the attached bathroom Dean nodded at Christy asking "May I."

"Sure," she answered.

The bathroom was decorated in the same blue and yellow shades as the bedroom and Dean wrinkled his nose at the flowery scent. Girlie stuff, but it didn't stop him from doing a thorough search. Sighing heavily he turned toward the linen closet and opened the door.

A dark shadow flitted through the mirror behind him. A shiver coursed down his back. Dean felt malicious eyes upon him. Turning quickly he searched for the source. The feeling disappeared as abruptly as it had come. Dean shook himself mumbling beneath his breath, "You're getting paranoid, old man."

"Getting?" Sam chuckled sticking his head in the door.

"Go suck an egg," Dean grumbled but it didn't stop him from searching the mirror. He stared in horror when his eyes caught the spot of strawberry jam on his collar.

Sam laughed and turned away.

Growling Dean pulled at his collar and licked at the offending jam.

Christy leaned against the door, wrinkling her brow at his antics. "Dean," she admonished. Shaking her head she walked forward and scrubbed at the small spot with a washcloth. When she was finished she stepped back her body language a picture of dejection. "Nothing," she asked quietly.

Sam shared a glance with Dean before he spoke, "Nothing, I'm sorry, but we're not giving up. The sheriff is going to let us into the school. We need to take a look at the room where Melinda was hurt."

"When," Christy asked hopefully.

"We're headed there next," Sam offered immediately regretting offering the information when Christy demanded.

"I'm going with you."

She held up her hand as Dean started to argue. "Melinda is my sister!"

Dean took a deep breath and blew it out quickly knowing it wasn't going to do any good to argue with her. Her mind was set on being there. If she didn't go with them, she would go it alone and more than likely get into trouble. Dean would rather have her where he could keep an eye on her.


	11. Chapter 11 Trouble finds him

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 11 Trouble finds him**

Dean was surprised to see the petite figure of Beth waiting for them at the school. Mike had assigned her the task of escorting them around the school. "It's an arduous task, Beth," Mike chuckled, "But someone's got to do it."

"No problem Sheriff, all in the line of duty," she replied mournfully but her attitude was cheerful. More than willing to spend some time with Dean, her eyes sparkled mischievously.

Too cheerfully Mike growled laughingly.

Nodding hello to Christy and Sam, Beth had eyes only for Dean. "The Sheriff said I was to give you free rein Dean so just let me know where you want to start."

Dean was all business but in the back of his mind he knew he and Beth were going to make beautiful music together one of these days.

"I want to take a look at the room where the attack happened. Get the feel," he told her. "Do you mind taking Sam and Christy down to the records room?"

Her lips pouted prettily before chuckling. She wanted to stay with him but she would do what he asked.

The laughter outside the door drove her to madness. When the door opened she crowed with silent delight. The Target had come to her. They would pay for laughing at her.

Dean slapped his brother on the shoulder, "You find the records room."

"What exactly am I looking for," Sam asked quickly?

"Search for everything having to do with the Homecoming. For the last ten years if you have too, anything that might tell us who's doing this and why. Did someone hold a grudge against one of these kids? Is hurting the others just a cover-up? Counselors assessment, I don't know – use your imagination little brother, you do have one of those - an imagination don't ya Sammy," Dean laughed quietly?

Snarling at his brother Sam sauntered off down the hallway.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn but the early morning sun gave him enough light to see the layout of the room. He had seen pictures of the room after the attack. It was like a tornado had swept it. Melinda's blood had stained the floor in several places. The books, desks and chairs had been strewn about the room in chaos. One bookshelf was partially filled, but stacks of books sat on the floor waiting to be place back in their proper spots.

Cautiously Dean circled the room his fingers running across the book bindings as he walked past the floor to ceiling bookshelves.

Stopping in the center of the room, his whispered words echoed into the room, "Come out, come out wherever you are," it was a taunt, but Dean hoped it would elicit a response. He listened, but didn't really expect a response.

Stepping back he stumbled over a book that had somehow been hiding beneath a desk near the front of the room. He chuckled and reached down to pick up the offending article reading the title, 'Grimm's Fairy Tales', how poetic he mumbled.

A cool breeze flutters through the room. He knew instantly something or someone had gained entrance. A dark voice echoes into the silence. The tortured words were low and angry filled with hatred and malice. Dean knew instantly this was Melinda's attacker.

"You dare laugh," the angry voice stated. "They laughed and now their gone where no one will ever find them." She didn't even give him time to think, answer or react before the room erupted. A large leather bound book flew off the shelf and hit him in the back of the head. Stabbing pain erupted in his skull. Stunned he staggered forward nearly loosing his balance before a second book struck him in the chest. Gasping for air his chest grew tight with pain as he strained to breathe.

Dropping into a defensive stance he batted at the books as they tumbled toward him.

"No one laughs at Amelia," the harsh voice cried out. "They think I didn't know they were laughing, but I heard them. They thought they could talk behind my back, make fun of me. I am so much more then they could ever be. They took it all away, you took it away," she screamed.

Dean didn't get a chance to reply as the books continued to assault him. It wasn't long before his arms began to ache. His hands were soon scraped and bloody his body bruised and battered. Knowing he couldn't win this battle, not here, not now he stepped backward slowly inching toward the door.

Amelia screeched angrily unwilling to let her victim escape. Her hatred roared through the room. Chairs and desks spun into the air.

Ducking and twisting Dean could not hope to avoid the missiles she threw at him. Twisted metal pelted him from all sides, slashing at his clothes, battering his body. A broken chair slammed into his outstretched arm, the sharp edge slicing deep into his left forearm. He hissed in pain letting down his guard. Desperation sliced through him, he was fast loosing this battle but had yet to discover where she hid.

His head ached, his vision blurry he felt the air spinning around him. He knew what was coming as the wind wrenched him upward and spun him around. It tore at his arms and legs trying to tear them from his body. A cold blast of air slammed into his stomach sending him spinning backwards. He landed hard the breath knocked from his body as he struck the back wall and slid to the floor below the bookshelves.

Dean ducked covering his head as the remaining book were torn from the shelves to rain down on his unprotected body. They pounded at him until he could barely think, barely breath.

He heard her guttural laughter and turned toward the source of the sound hoping to find her. His eyes caught the shadow deep in the mirror only a few feet away. "I hate mirrors," he grumbled beneath his breath.

Her face was beautiful, flawless, skin clear and luminous as she glared at him. He stilled, the world falling away around him. Her silvery eyes mesmerized him drawing out his soul. A small part of him saw the danger and the lie behind her beauty. "No," he screamed into the room. Suddenly the face changed the features contorted, the skin puckering the left side of her face. Dean screamed and tore his eyes away from the mirror. The face was familiar, but Dean wouldn't understand the change until it was almost too late.

Her angry roar filled the room, deafening him.

Hands desperately flew to cover his ears and shut out the sound. Dean knew he couldn't survive the assault much longer. His strength was waning. He had one chance to save himself. He had to break the mirror.

Reaching down his right hand clenched around the leg of a twisted chair. Dean sucked in a breath as he heard the screech of metal from behind him.

The shadowy Amelia lifted her hand her fingers curling into a ball as she tore the bookshelves from the wall.

Dean's tortured body twisted as he reared back and lifted the chair into the air.

He saw her look of surprise as he launched the metal chair at her.

She couldn't stop it and raised her arms protectively. Her scream of hatred tore through the school echoing through the corridors as the chair struck the mirror. The piercing cry sliced into his mind.

In front of him the corner of the mirror cracked but didn't break, Dean was helpless to protect himself.

Several corridors away Sam and Christy were digging through the school records when they heard the angry scream echoing off the walls.

"Dean," Sam hissed breathlessly as he jumped to his feet.

Beth and Christy were hard on his heels as they sprinted down the hall.

They slid to a stop in front of the door. Sam gasped in horror as he looked at the door. It was bent and warped and half off its hinges. "Dean," he shouted in alarm." Pushing against the door he could barely budge it. Peering through the window he saw his brothers arm arc into motion as he threw the chair at the mirror.

Taking two steps back Sam launched himself at the door. With a screech of metal the door gave way. "Call an ambulance," he shouted. He didn't stop to see if Christy was making the call as he rushed into the room.

Sam staggered under the onslaught but he fought his way across the room.

"Dean," he yelled above the roar but the struggling figure on the floor gave no reply.

Her attention on Dean, the spirit in the mirror didn't see the newcomer until it was too late.

Sam ran picking up a twisted metal chair on his way across the room. "I hate mirrors," he raged, the Bloody Mary incident still fresh in his mind. Without hesitation he slammed the hard metal into the mirror. He heard the ominous cracking and the shriek of desperate anger. His eyes caught the sight of the beautiful face in the mirror before the world exploded.

Sam was thrown backward landing hard against the wall.

Dean had not heard Sam calling his name. He was desperately gathering what remained of his strength and searching for another object to hurl. Taking a deep breath he climbed to his feet. Looking up his eyes widened when he heard his brother wild cry of fury as he smashed at the mirror.

Shards of glass exploded around him. Sharp pain sliced into Dean as the glass opened up a gash across his left cheek. He twisted left hissing again when several pieces of glass buried themselves into his right shoulder.

The screeching of metal nails as they were torn from the wall assaulted him. Dean threw himself sideways hoping to avoid the full brunt of the blow as the bookshelf fell. He almost made it.

The bookshelf scraped along his right leg taking him to the floor. The books, desks and chairs that had swirled around the room tumbled to the floor, battering him one last time.

Seconds later the room was deathly quiet except for Sam and Dean's labored breathing.

Scrambling to his feet Sam rushed across the room. Falling to his knees beside his brother Sam felt a wave of helplessness rush through him at the blood splattered over his brother. Feeling for a pulse at his brother's neck he sighed in relief. "Dean," he whispered urgently, "Can you hear me?"

Shouting this time his fingers brushed at his brother's uninjured cheek, "Dean."

The touch brought Dean slowly back to life. Barely conscious his eyes fluttered open. "Amelia in the mirror" he whispered faintly

"Amelia Grayson," Sam asked quickly?

Dean nodded his head and immediately regretted it as waves of pain and dizziness washed over him. A tiny crooked smile crossed his lips, his voice raspy as he tried to joke, "Sammy to the rescue." His eyes fluttered closed.

"Stay with me Dean, an ambulance is on the way," he growled. "Stay with me big brother," he whispered urgently.

Sam was more than worried, his brother's pulse was weak and thready his breathing labored. He prayed the ambulance would hurry.

Seconds later Beth and Christy were by his side, checking his injuries Christy put her considerable nursing skills to use. Beth was on the radio hurrying the ambulance along and reporting to the Sheriff.

It took the ambulance less than five minutes to arrive. They went to work quickly doing to their best to stop the bleeding and stabilize their patient. A police cruiser arrived with them and it took Sam, one paramedic and the two officers to lift the bookshelf off Dean's legs as the second paramedic pulled him free.

It wasn't long before he was carefully lifted onto the gurney and strapped in place. "Hate hospitals," Dean muttered.

"I know, but just this once," Sam answered.

"People die in hospitals," Dean complained.

The paramedics chuckled saying, "Well we'll do our best to make sure that doesn't happen in your case."

Dean nodded before his body gave in. The darkness had rolled over him dragging him down into the dark abyss.

Sam stood to the side watching with mounting fear as he brother was driven away. He had wanted to be with Dean, but the ambulance was too small to fit all of them. Sam felt lost and for some reason he couldn't seem to think or react. His heart thumped in his chest, tears filled his eyes as he watched the ambulance disappear down the road.

Tapping him on the shoulder Christy captured his attention. "Come on, I'll drive you to the hospital."

He was shaking, and Christy squeezed his hand gently. "I don't think you should drive right now."

Sighing Sam looked into her eyes and saw the concern. Her sister had been attacked in that same room only a day ago. She knew how he felt, knew what he was going through. "Thanks, Christy."

"I'll lead the way you two," Beth shouted as she headed for her car.

Three hours later Sam stood in the hallway outside his brothers' hospital room. Relief flooded through him at the doctor's words. "Your brother's injuries though bad are not life threatening. He's bruised and battered has a couple of bruised rib, a slight concussion, a myriad of cuts and bruises and a twisted knee. We're going to keep him here for a couple of days. He hasn't regained consciousness, but thankfully he hasn't slipped into a coma."

Dean had been taken straight to a trauma room. Doctors and nurses were working to identify the myriad of injuries he had sustained. The darkness held him tight and he never felt their probing hands.


	12. Chapter 12 Call in the Dark

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 12 Call in the dark**

Dusk had settled over the town. The uproar had finally settled.

Dean laid beneath the cool white sheets his face pale, dark bruises beneath his eyes. Sam was worried. He had never seen his brother this bad, so still, so silent. Three tiny butterfly tapes held the cut on his cheek closed. His left arm was swathed in bandages from wrist to elbow. It had taken twelve stitches to close the cut on his arm. His right leg was only slightly better off. The hard metal of the book shelf had scraped a path along his right calf. No stitches lay beneath the ankle to knee bandage, but it was bad none the less.

Tubes and wires stuck out at all different angles, but it was the quiet beeping of the heart monitor that made him wince. Sitting in the overstuffed chair beside the bed, Sam stared off into the distance. Only seconds before he had silently screamed his brothers name in fear. When Dean didn't answer tears filled his eyes.

He didn't see the slight shift in his brothers' position.

Dean was roused from slumber. The call had been urgent, filled with fear and that worried Dean. Sam needed him. Leaden lids fluttered open. The room was dimly lit but Dean could see his little brother sitting in the chair beside the bed. It near broke his heart to see him sitting there so forlorn, knowing he was the cause.

His chest was tight and he knew it was going to hurt, but Sam needed to know that he was alive and kicking, well not exactly kicking, he mussed, "Hey little brother, burning the midnight oil."

Sam whipped around to find Dean awake, a crooked smile on his battered lips.

Trying hard to cover his emotions, Sam reverted to gruff sarcasm, "Dammit Dean you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry," was Dean's chuckling reply. "Thanks for saving my life." He quipped a few seconds later."

"What," Sam faltered?

"You know, battling the demon, sword to the heart, breaking the mirror, that sort of thing," Dean wheezed.

"Shut up," Sam whispered. "You shouldn't be talking and wasting your strength."

Reaching across Dean's prone form Sam pressed the little white button that would bring the nurse into the room.

"What are you doing," Dean growled.

"Taking care of you for a change," Sam grinned.

His grin widened when he heard his brother groan upon seeing the door open. A white coated doctor moved quickly to the bedside a familiar face in a nurse's uniform close beside him. Christy winked at Sam before she helped the doctor poke and prod at their patient.

Dean's eyes promised dire retribution, but he was too tired, too hurt to resist at the moment.

A few minutes later the doctor had finished his exam. Settling his stethoscope around his neck the doctor dug his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "I'd say you were lucky young man, but I'm not sure this was a luck kind of occasion."

"Just a thing, doc," Dean joked.

"Well it was a helluva thing, you came damn close to buying a piece of property behind the church" the doctor replied raising his left eyebrow as he considered his patient. "I'm keeping you here for the next couple of days young man. You need rest and lots of sleep and time to let those cuts and bruises heal."

Dean squirmed starting to protest.

"You heard me young man. I'll tie you to that bed if I have too. I'm sure your brother here would be glad to buckle the restraints in place."

Sam chuckled, Dean growled.

The doctor saw more than Dean wanted him too. Though he tried hard to hide it, he hurt, couldn't think of a single place on his body that didn't ache. Just turning his head had sent a stab of pain slicing through his skull. Like it or not, he wasn't going anywhere in the near future.

The first dose of pain killers went into the IV attached to his right hand. Relief, glorious relief he sighed as the medication went to work. He hadn't realized how bad it was until it was gone. He needed to talk to Sam, warn him about the Amelia that wasn't but his body demanded respite. Consciousness slowly faded as he slipped back into a deep healing sleep.

oooOOOooo

TBC

I hope you like the story. You know what they say - You always hurt the ones you love. Please R & R let me know what you think.


	13. Chapter 13 Into the past

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 13 Into the past**

He looked in the mirror staring at the ravages of his once handsome face, all that was gone, now he was only a hideous creature. The stuff they write of in comic books. His future destroyed, his beautiful sister gone. She had been everything to him, his dearest friend, his boon companion, his sanity. There was no one to see into his darkest soul, control his deadly emotions.

In those first few months after the accident pain had been his closest companion, both physical and mental. They had tried to piece his ravaged face back together again. In the end they had succeeded, but the sight had eventually driven him insane. It wasn't the same anymore. The face that had comforted him kept him close to this sister was gone. His nose, her nose was gone, his chin, her chin was squarer. He hated them for that, hated them all for destroying everything he had known.

For hours on end he had stood in her room in front of her mirror. Soon his mind had substituted his new face for hers. The mirror said it was her, he could have her with him all the time now and he would never be without her again. A flickering light hung near his shoulder whispering into his ear. Dreams of her formed in his mind. They merged, two becoming one, the mirror rippling with their energy.

A greenish gold glow appeared over his shoulder, feeding on his emotions. The little creature whispered words of hatred and desire for revenge. Malice, revenge, his mischievous nature wove a story for an insane mine to feed on.

Even as he stared at the mirror he wished he could cross over, be with her again. The rippling in the mirror continued. The energy surrounding him pulsed outward striking the mirror over and over again, warping the surface until it rippled like water. He had wished with all his heart to bridge the gap between them now he had.

The tiny creature glowed with triumph as he opened a passageway into the shadows

He heard them laughing. 'They shouldn't laugh,' he raged silently. Her name was on their lips. He didn't understand that they were only remembering her antics as she climbed trees and fell into childish scrapes. He knew only that they laughed. Leaping forward the mirror didn't shatter but turned to liquid as his body past through into another world. The first step sent a wave of searing pain coursing through his body, but a flickering light drew him on and soon the pain was gone. The light was her spirit, he knew that and he followed hoping to be reunited with her once again.

He stared around him in amazement, it was dark and shadowy but light seeped in from all around him. The light proved to be mirrors – windows back into the world he hated.

He could hear them laughing still and ran toward the sound. They were there, the familiar faces of his parents. He could see them from the mirror above their bed. He hated their laughter, hated their tears but most of all he hated them for laughing at her. His rage exploded into the room. It happened fast, but his fury was deadly and explosive. The room was torn to shreds in an instant. He battered them with the things they loved. The books, the pictures they cherished became deadly weapons. Soon their terrified screams became tiny whimpers of defeat as they were beaten to death, their laughter silenced forever.

The light hovering near him grew brighter with each new hit. As they died a mist drifted over their bodies hovering in regret before rising into the air. The glittering light swept in catching at the shining mist and devouring it. Their souls would never see the heavens or know the light. They were gone, their spirits feeding the dark desire of the tiny creature who had stolen them.

Time does not heal all wounds. Some festered and grew. His twisted mind set his sister on a pedestal. Beautiful Amelia, homecoming queen, she would be the greatest – the last homecoming queen Fremont knew. It didn't matter that she had died in a car accident, caused by a tiny animal that had run into the road. The car had swerved off the road and Amelia and his childhood playmate were gone.

His dear cherished Rebecca the only other woman he loved was gone. She had understood him. She too had been lost to him in the accident. Not dead, life still lived in her body, but her mind was gone, her soul was lost. His revenge would tear the soul from their bodies leaving them dried up husks like her.

The first two had been easy; they had been confused when they looked into the lovely face. They didn't know that each second they gazed into the emerald eyes a piece of them was being stolen. His revenge was stealing away their soul. He had them now, their shadow soul hung where he could see them. The mirrors hid them from view but he knew where they were.

In the beginning they would wake and he would taunt them, but he soon grew tired of the game. Now they slept, still and silent, trophies hanging on his wall.

The glowing creature let him have his revenge. Each day a little of their soul was torn away. But it was enough to keep the man creature happy. There were many other souls to steel and he would help

This years Homecoming King and Queen had been a little more difficult, wary of something their souls had been harder to capture. He learned quickly how to find them manipulate them, enhance their fears with fears of his making. Yet always the golden light of his sister's spirit hovered beside him. In the end they were lost.

He had come close to killing her this year. A dark desire had welled up in his heart, but he had been interrupted. Next year that would change. No one was good enough, no one could replace her. They would try, he would succeed.

The unfamiliar face on the school lawn disturbed him. Fear trickled down his spine. He pasted a false smile on his face and turned to meet the strangers gaze. Hatred, immediate and deadly flared in his heart. This one would have to die, he saw too much. Andrew gathered his wits and pasted a sad smile on his face. The golden light was not beside him this day. It didn't like the light, it didn't know of the danger.

oooOOOooo

Ok, so now you know. A little mis-direction is good for the "Soul"

R & R please, thanks


	14. Chapter 14 On his own

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 14 On his own **

Dean growled menacingly. Six am, sleep, how the hell was he supposed to sleep when they kept waking him up? He had a concussion they'd admonished, and waking him up assured them he was still lucid and in no apparent danger of lapsing into a coma. But this time it was to check his pulse and respiration and take his temperature. At least they didn't have to stick the little piece of glass and mercury in his ass. He loved technology as they slipped the little plastic thing under his tongue.

He closed his eyes waiting. Swearing he blew the thermometer across the room when the nurse jabbed his thigh with a needle administering his next dose of pain medication.

"You could have warned me," he groused.

"And miss the reaction," the nurse joked. "Sorry, your right I though you were watching and saw what was coming," she apologized.

Still grumbling Dean wanted nothing more than to be left alone or better yet, find a dark and dingy motel room to hold up in. This cheerful, bright place was driving him crazy.

Sam had come early making sure he was still alive and kicking before heading out to do more research. Dean had been asleep. Not wanting to disturb him Sam had penned a note and left it on the stand beside the bed.

He was dozing a few hours later when the door to his room opened once more. Mike McCarty tiptoed in wanting to talk but not wanting to disturb him.

Dean let him know he was awake. "Morning Sheriff."

"Morning, how you feeling?"

"Run over and hit by a truck then beat with bat for good measure," Dean grumbled.

"That good, huh," Mike laughed. "You're a mess."

"Thanks," Dean chuckled, "That makes me feel a whole lot better."

"No problem," the sheriff added smugly before turning serious once again. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I know this is going to sound strange Sheriff but I swear I saw Amelia's face in the mirror in that room. The voice was deep almost masculine but the face was hers. It said 'No one laughs at Amelia'."

"How is that possible," Mike asked cautiously?

Dean tried to sit up, excitement of the hunt overriding the weakness of the body. But his body won out. He groaned clutching at his side.

Mike jumped not knowing what to do he called for the nurse.

"Don't," Dean pleaded, "I just got a little carried away.

But it was too late the door opened revealing the charge nurse. "What are you doing Sheriff," she scolded.

"Mary I …" he started.

"And you," she reprimanded, "Shouldn't be moving around. I'll hold you responsible Sheriff if he busts those stitches out."

"Sorry," Mike said chastised.

Bustling around him like a mother hen, the older woman clucked and fussed over him. She settled him back against the fluffed pillows with a dire warning not to over exert himself again. When the door closed behind the imposing figure, Dean caught the Sheriff's eyes and chuckled.

"Sorry," Mike said, "I forgot the ole battleaxe was on duty.

They heard the disembodied laughing voice of the charge nurse a second later, "I heard that!"

Both men chuckled.

Dean gripped his aching side once more.

When he could talk again Dean asked, "Have you seen my brother."

"Yeah, he and Christy were headed toward the school and library to do some more research. Why."

"Just wondering," Dean answered his voice laced with dejection, "Though maybe he'd come here first."

"He did," Mike answered, "But I guess you were sleeping or something." Spying the note on the table Mike handed it to Dean.

With one arm bandaged, the other stuck with needles, Dean grumbled as his fingers fumbled with the paper.

"Let me help," Mike laughed, "before you dislodge one of those wire and 'she' comes running." They both knew who he meant.

'Dean', the note started. 'Don't harass the nurses, gone to the library; be back in a couple of hours. Pizza or burgers?' the noted ended.

"Pizza," Dean answered.

Mike laughed, "Get some rest, I've got to get back to work."

oooOOOooo

I know, it was short and no real meat - but there is more to come - its only heating up now. R & R Please.


	15. Chapter 15 Into the shadows

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 15 Into the shadow**

Sam was pissed, he stared at the birthdates listed for Andrew and Amelia. They were twins. There was a bond between twins and from the looks of them a very close bond. He needed to find Andrew, talk to him. He had an idea where to start.

Christy, do you know where the Grayson place is?

"Yeah it's about ten miles from here, why?"

Sam was like a dog with bone, he had his teeth into it now and needed to follow the lead. The house might give him some clues to Andrew's state of mind.

"Do you want to stop by the hospital first and see Dean?"

Sam looked at his watch, "It's only been an hour, he's probably still sleeping. We can be out there and back before he wakes up."

Agreeing with his logic they headed for the Impala. Slipping the key into the ignition Sam looked up to find the Sheriff walking their way.

Christy stood up and leaned against the car her face wreathed in smiles, "Morning Mike."

"Morning Christy," as an afterthought his eyes only for Christy, Mike added, "Sam."

"Where are you two headed," he asked?

"The Grayson place," Sam answered. "Did you know Andrew and Amelia were twins?"

"Twins," Mike mussed. "Nope, don't think I did."

Mulling over the fact Mike decided to go to the Grayson place with them. "

The radio on his shoulder bleeped calling his name. "Sheriff, looks like ole Joe's at it again. Can you head out to his place and calm him down before he hurts himself."

"Send Thomason out Beth," Mike replied.

"You know Joe won't listen to anyone but you Sheriff," the voice answered.

Mike groaned, Ole Joe was nearing a hundred and sometimes the old man got a wild hair up his ass. He was basically harmless but he had been known to shoot up a few parked cars and scare the city slickers some. Groaning he answered, "On my way."

Looking at Christy he said, "Be careful, if you find anything out of the ordinary you call me."

Winking at him she replied, "Yes Sheriff."

Mike took the cue and leaned close brushing a butterfly kiss across her rosy lips.

oooOOOooo

Another short one and a smalltidbit of information


	16. Chapter 16 The Old Homestead

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 16 The Old Homestead**

Sam pulled into the driveway amazed at what he saw. The driveway was long nearly a quarter mile and the first half was badly overgrown with large trees and dense thickets. Both Sam and Christy sucked in a deep breath as they neared the house. After the initial view the rest of the place was a Garden of Eden. Well kept flower beds were a riotous mass of color. For a short distance around the house the grass was green and lush. Beyond that the forest grew thick and menacing. Shadows flickered across the lawn giving the whole place a dark and eerie feel.

The house drew their attention. It stood two stories high and sprawled menacingly across the lawn. The blue gray stone was dark and unwelcoming. The curtains showing through the windows were also dark and gloomy. Deep browns and burgundy, they did not enhance the welcome.

"No wonder they never sold the place," Christy whispered, "It gives me the chills."

A young man wearing a big floppy had, leather gloves and dark sunglasses riding a lawn tractor came around the corner, his expression showed surprise at first but he waved a welcome as he parked beside the Impala. "Can I help you folks?"

"We're looking for Andrew Grayson, does he live here," Sam asked?

"I've never met the guy," the young man stated calmly. "I deal with the Real Estate office. They pay me to do the gardening and general upkeep on the place. Are you folks looking to buy the place?"

Sam smiled, "Yeah, do you mind if we take a look inside?"

"Front doors open, go on in. I've got some work to do, but I don't think anyone will mind. His demeanor was warm and open, he smiled brightly and waved as he climbed back on the lawn mower and drove away.

Sam didn't answer just took Christy's hand and squeezed it tight. The mat outside the front door said 'Welcome' but neither of them felt welcome in this house. They could feel the energy vibrating from its wall. Christy shivered.

"I don't like this place," Christy grumbled.

"It's just a house," he answered trying to give her confidence, but he felt it too, this was more than just a house. It seemed to be a living breathing presence. The answer was here he could feel it. Even if Andrew wasn't here, they might be able to find out what was causing the teenagers comas.

How dare they invade her house! He grinned maliciously; the new face was an asset after all. Rounding the corner of the house he stopped the mower and entered the house through the back door. He had recognized the tall man. He had been with the other one, the knowing one. He was the one who had broken the mirror before the job could be finished. Well this one would pay for his interference.

Silently he climbed the back stairs and slid into his sister's room. The golden glow appeared suddenly above his shoulder. Shedding his jeans and T-shirt he slipped into black jeans and turtleneck. It was easier to hide in the shadows this way.

Sam whistled beneath his breath. The place was immaculate inside and out and totally different from the gloomy exterior. It was a showplace. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings and the reflection shown from every surface of the room. It was bright, too bright, Sam mumbled beneath his breath. 'Mirrors', "Damn," he whispered. "What ever you do Christy do not look at the mirrors." They were everywhere, on every wall and even on the ceilings

"Why," she asked quickly. Her hand tightened in his. "It's the mirrors," Sam answered. I don't know how yet but that's how he gets to his victims."

"Well let's find out," Christy urged. It might have been reckless, but she wanted to know, needed to know. Maybe knowing would bring her sister back.

Sam hesitated. The place just didn't feel right. He wished Dean was here to watch his back, but he wasn't, Sam was on his own. Feeling in his pockets for the salt, garlic and the handgun Sam pulled the shotgun from beneath his jacket. He heard Christy suck in a breath but he wasn't going to apologize or change tactics now.

Upstairs the dark figure stepped through the mirrored doorway and stopped long enough to gloat as he stared at his captives. They were his and he would not easily give them up. The man downstairs was too close to the truth, he would have to be silenced. Stepping forward his fingers lifted the chin of his latest acquisition. His body suddenly glowed a greenish gold as the tiny creature entered his mind.

Melinda groaned and opened her eyes. A silent scream escaped her. He drew her forward and molded his body with hers. Soon they were one, the essence of Melinda buried deep in his mind. Her spirit remained chained to the wall, but the face that stared out at the world was hers.

Miles away her body shook uncontrollably setting off the hospitals bells and whistles. Doctors and nurses rushed to her side but as quickly as the seizure came, her body stilled. Deep within, her heart raced in her chest and panic filled her mind.

He raced through the murky darkness reveling in the thing he had become. This was his world, his to manipulate, his to own. He flitted from room to room hunting them. He found them in the library searching through the desk. He couldn't show his hand just yet, he wanted them alive – for a while. He snickered, the slight sound whispered into the room, hoping to draw their attention.

Sam looked up, "Did you hear that," he asked quietly.

"Hear what," Christy started he hands stilled as she cocked her head to listen.

"It sounded like laughter," he answered looking around the room.

"I didn't hear it," Christy whispered back, "Probably just this old house creaking."

"Probably," Sam agreed, but he knew different. He had heard the laughter. Bells went off in his head but Christy was already on the move headed out the door and up the stairs.

"I'm going upstairs," she shouted. "I love this place. Come on I want to see the bedrooms."

Sam groaned and shifted the shotgun to his shoulder. It had been a mistake to bring her, she was out of control, but it was too late now. All he could do was follow and try to keep her out of trouble. Because trouble he knew was stalking them.

Christy was in heaven, she loved antiques and this old house was full of them. Everything was in perfect condition, lovingly cared for. Her fingers gently stroked the polished wood and caressed the porcelain statues she found. At least she heeded Sam's words and hadn't looked into the mirrors. She had been tempted though. Each wall held a large mirror, and like the rest of the furniture in the house they were antiques and glorious.

They traversed the house stopping momentarily in each room until Christy stopped and gasped. "Jeez, look at this place," Christy breathed. Every surface of the room was covered in mirror. Her fingers caressed the pictures along the wall. They were all of Amelia, "This place is like a shrine."

"Yeah or maybe an Alter for someone to worship at," Sam droned. It was spooky. The whole room was covered in mirrors floor to ceiling except for the row of pictures hanging above the bed. The room was lit but a hundred candles littering the surface of every piece of furniture. It smelled of French vanilla, a smell Sam disliked intensely.

Head bent, his eyes looking at the toes of his shoes Sam hurried across the room. Grabbing Christy by the arm he propelled her into the next room. This room was darker, more masculine and Sam new instantly they were in Andrew's room. It was dingy, unkempt, unlike the rest of the house.

So far they'd been lucky, but Sam knew it couldn't last. They hadn't found anything. He knew they were close, but he couldn't hunt with Christy in tow. "Come on we have to get out of here. I can come back later when Dean is better.

Christy grumbled, and dragged her toes wanting to spend more time in the beautiful house. Pulling away from Sam she ran across the room.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Andrew softly called her name. His wait was rewarded as she stepped closer and looked up into his face, no he reminded himself; it wasn't his face she saw at all.

"Oh my God, Melinda," Christy whispered putting her hands out she met Melinda's in the mirror's reflection.

Across the room Sam heard her whimpering cry and turned to see Christy facing the mirror. "Christy no!" he shouted, but it was too late.

The distraction was enough, it was all he needed. The brass lamp sitting on the table beside the bed flew across the room. Without a sound Sam crumpled to the floor. His skull was on fire, pain radiated through every nerve ending but Sam fought hard to stay conscious.

Through slitted eyes he watched Christy. She was mesmerized by the sight of her sister in the mirror. He had to break the mirror now before it was too late. The brass lamp lay beside him. Numb fingers reached for it. Screaming her name he launched the heavy brass lamp toward the mirror.

Christy's heart was in her throat, when she saw her sister's face she forgot Sam's warning. "Melinda," she whispered. "Is that really you?"

"Yes Chrissie, help me, help me," the familiar voice screamed. The mirrored image glowed brightly drawing Christy's mind and soul into itself.

He crowed in triumph, she was his now like the others she would become part of his collection. He looked deeply into the heart of her and captured her soul tearing it from her body. Thin wisps of light gathered around her he pulled them close and took her through the mirror.

Sam dragged his aching head around watching as the lamp spun slowly – too slowly, he grumbled to himself, toward the mirror. His heart thumped in his chest when he saw Christy fall to the floor. It was too late, he'd failed her, failed the kids but most of all he'd failed Dean.

The Brass lamp struck the mirror shattering Melinda's image. The creature within screamed in fury as his facade was torn away. He spun away from the broken mirror the glow fading as the tiny creature was thrown out. Quickly he traversed the dark pathway to the next mirror across the room. The enemy was climbing to his feet.

Sam rose on wobbly legs his vision blurred as he struggled to put one foot in front of the other to reach Christy's unconscious body.

He saw the brass lamp flying his way. His body was slow to react, but he somehow managed to avoid a direct blow. Unsteady on his feet even the glancing blow was enough to send him spinning. Only one thought crossed his mind and he screamed his brother's name. "Dean," followed a second later by, "I'm sorry."

Sam crashed into the wall behind him. In a tangled heap he hit the wall and fell forward striking his head on the hard marble floor. Stars exploded in his skull, and darkness rose up to claim him.


	17. Chapter 17 Darkness waits

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 17 Darkness waits**

Mike was grumbling beneath his breath. Ole Joe had been more than a little bit of trouble this day. He had managed to shoot the windows out of his car before stumbling and setting the shotgun off and shooting himself in the foot. Mike had made another trip to the hospital insuring himself that ole Joe was going to be ok. The old man was a mess but had settled down when his daughter had arrived to read him the riot act.

It was a little after ten and already it had been a day in hell. Mike swore softly. Turning the corner out of the emergency room parking lot Mike stared at the limping figure in surprise.

Dean had been sleeping, dreaming about a petite sheriff's deputy in a tan uniform when his mind heard the frantic call. His eyes flew open and he sat upright in bed. He didn't feel the stabbing pain from bruised ribs. His mind was wrapped around his brother cry. Sam was in trouble and Dean had to find him. He didn't stop to analyze the sudden connection he had with his brother.

Dean ripped the IV needle from his hand not caring about the trickle of blood that flowed down his hand. Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, adrenalin drove him now, its powerful effect flowing through his veins. Rifling through the closet he sighed in relief when he found jeans and a denim shirt waiting. Socks and boots followed. Agonizing pain followed his every move, but he pushed it away. Sam needed him.

He didn't know how he was going to get there; he only knew he had to find Sam. Opening the door to his room he peered cautiously up and down the hallway. When the coast was clear he hobbled from the room and into the elevator and down to the first floor. The side entrance doors were open and beckoned. Dean didn't hesitate.

In his present state Dean looked a little worse for wear, disreputable might have been a better word. He didn't care. His mind was wrapped around finding a way to Sam. He could feel his brother, he knew the general direction but how to get there was another story. Remembering the Taxi stand in front of the hospital he headed that way.

Mike pressed down on the accelerator and headed across the parking lot. He pulled up beside the familiar figure and rolled down his window. "Dean where the hell are you going," he grumbled.

"Sam's in trouble," was all Dean answered, but he didn't stop his awkward limping stride.

Mike started in surprise and worry. "He and Christy went out to the Grayson place about an hour ago," Mike informed him. "The place is old, deserted."

"Damn, damn, damn," Dean swore loudly. "We need to get there Sheriff, we need to get there now." It wasn't a request, it was a demand.

Mike stopped the car only long enough for Dean to hobble around and slide into the passenger side. "How the hell do you know their in trouble?"

"Wait, don't tell me," Mike mumbled. "I don't think I want to know."

Dean smirked and told him anyway. "Yes you do! My brother and I have a kind of connection."

"A connection," Mike stated calmly. "As in…"

"Yeah – as in …"

Neither one of them finished the thought. For Dean was the first time, trying to understand the mind link, and Sam's new abilities. For Mike, it was the stuff stories and movies were made of. He wasn't a non-believer, he'd just never really thought about it before.

Mike glanced at the man beside him. He was a sorry sight; stark white bandages were not the only evidence of the attack. His face was pale, his breathing harsh. Mike also knew he'd never be able to stop him from going after his brother unless he cuffed him to the bed. Another look told him that wasn't an option. Dean would probably tear the hospital apart getting out.

Both men rode in silence. The patrol car sped through the town, its lights blazing, the sirens blaring only at intersections.

The ten mile trip took a little over seven minutes. Shutting down the lights, Mike idled the engine and coasted down the driveway. Both men were startled by the sight of the big house and pristine grounds.

Mike pulled the cruiser up beside the Impala and jumped out.

"Not so fast Sheriff," Dean whispered, "I don't know what we're dealing with here, guns blazing might be good in a whore house raid, but we're dealing with something else entirely here."

He had felt the darkness in the forest the minute they turned into the driveway. The forest was old, very old and it hid something dark and dangerous. Cocking his head sideways he listened to the forest, nothing, no chirping birds or noisy crickets anywhere. The forest was waiting. 'Waiting for what,' Dean mumbled in frustration.

"What the hells going on," Mike whispered angrily.

"I think we're dealing with Andrew here, a rather psychotic Andrew," Dean stated calmly. Dean took a deep breath before he mentioned anything about the forest.

"Mike, there's something else here beside Andrew."

Mike whirled to face him, "Something, that doesn't tell me much."

"I don't know much," Dean answered truthfully.

It was said too calmly for Mike's peace of mind, throwing his passenger a confused look he questioned the first remark. "How do you know its Andrew, why would he do something like this? He lost his sister in that accident."

"Exactly," Dean stated. "His sister, his twin sister, I didn't see it before, like his parents murder I didn't put all the pieces together. But when he lost his sister he lost part of himself, the sane part, the piece that anchored him to reality. I don't know why it happened, but he's focused his anger on the Homecoming Kings and Queens. Maybe he couldn't stand to see them replace her, I don't know. I don't know anything for sure."

"But how do you know its Andrew," Make asked quickly.

"The creature's eyes were Amelia's and his. He was at the school the day Melinda got hurt. I saw him standing outside the school. I didn't recognize him then, didn't put the pieced together until now." Dean was kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. "The face I saw in the mirror was somehow familiar. Sure it was Amelia's at first, but I saw the face in the mirror change when it couldn't control me. One side of the face was badly scarred before Andrew's new face came into play. He's had surgery."

"How the hell do you know all this," Mike asked in confusion.

"I just know sheriff, and this new Andrew is very, very dangerous."

"What's with the mirrors?"

"I don't know that either, but he's found a way in. Maybe Amelia's spirit is helping him. Maybe his demented mind opened the door, I don't know. But we have to find that door and stop him." Dean was the hunter now, his quarry lay ahead and his quick agile mind was already at work, but first he had to find Sam.

Mike had a dozen more questions, but he kept them to himself.

Limping over to the Impala Dean looked for the keys, hoping to find them but knowing Sam probably had them in his pocket. Some of the fire power in the trunk might have come in handy. Especially some rock salt shells for the shotgun. They might or might not have been dealing with Amelia's ghost, but he didn't want to kill Andrew either if he could help it.


	18. Chapter 18 Hunt the hunters

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 18 Hunt the Hunter**

He crowed in triumph when Sam went down. Rushing through the shadows he slipped through the mirrored door and ran to where Sam had fallen. None too gently he grabbed Sam's arms and pulled him toward the mirrored door. Together they slipped into the shadows.

The glowing creature suddenly appeared hovering beside Andrew. Reading the boys scattered thoughts a high pitched cackle filled the shadows. His hand wove symbols of power and Sam's body shot into the air. Andrew crowed in delight, he hung his enemy high – tracing circles around his wrists and ankles where ethereal chains suddenly appeared. Each movement he made mirrored the glowing creatures own.

He crowed in pleasure, another soul to torment, but he had one more target to find before his triumph would be complete. His body grew light as he wended his way through the mirrored shadows hunting his quarry. The glowing creature led the way. Their last encounter had sent his enemy to the hospital. It was there he would find his victim. This time he would not be so lucky. Andrew wanted his enemy dead, the creature wanted his soul. The trail he followed was dark now, no mirror or reflective glass to light his path. But he knew the way, had been all through the little town hundreds of times.

Sam stirred restlessly coming back to consciousness slowly. When he opened his eyes the world spun crazily. He closed his eyes willing the spinning and dizziness to stop. Slowly he opened his eyes again. What he saw confused his fogged mind. Five bodies hung on the wall beside him. He recognized them immediately and growled angrily when he tried to move, only to find his own arms and legs pinned to the wall. But he was different from them somehow? He could see the wall through their bodies. They were spirits while his body was real. "What the hell kind of world was this," he grumbled in anger.

Looking down he saw the chains, his brow wrinkled in confusion. He could see his skin through the chains. It dawned on him that the chains might not be real? Wriggling his wrists he tested the theory only to find his hands stuck fast.

His head ached, and he was finding it difficult to concentrate but Sam knew he had to find a way out of the chains. 'What use psychic abilities if he couldn't control them,' he had heard Dean joke about it several time.

Taking a deep breath he concentrated hard on the chains encircling his right wrist. He imagined a lightening bolt severing the chairs. Seconds later he yelped in surprise, his right wrist free but stinging badly from the burn. He sucked on the burn hoping to relieve the stinging pain.

He crowed in triumph, but knew he had to find a less destructive way of cutting through the chains. Imagining a pair of bolt cutters he zapped the chains on his left wrist then ankles. He didn't stop to think how far down the floor was. Yelping in surprise Sam fell. Banging the back of his head against the wall he saw stars and nearly lost consciousness again, but the sound of footsteps snapped him back and into a defensive stance. Andrew was returning!


	19. Chapter 19 Through the looking glass

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 19 Through the looking glass**

Mike and Dean strode silently through the house. Dean again warned the Sheriff about not looking into the mirrors. It only took them a few minutes to clear the ground floor before heading upstairs. They took the opposite track from Sam and Christy, finding Andrew's room first.

It was Mike who found Christy's unconscious form lying on the floor. He hissed in fear feeling for a pulse. She was alive. "I need to get her to the hospital," he growled.

Dean turned swiftly catching the Sheriff's shoulder as he moved to lift Christy into his arms. "A hospital isn't going to help her, we have to find Andrew, it's the only way you are going to get her back."

Mike was hard pressed to stem his emotions. Anger and fury warred with fear as he looked at Dean. This whole ghost hunting, soul stealing thing was way above reach. He didn't understand, maybe didn't want to understand this darker side of life. He had enough darkness to contend with. Being a sheriff he had seen everything, from murder to rape and it wasn't pretty. This whole mess was foreign to him. Taking a deep breath he lightly caressed Christy cheek vowing to bring her home. Steeling himself Mike sucked in a breath and nodded to Dean.

Dean sighed, it was hard, damned hard for someone to understand something they couldn't see, feel or touch. But sheer determination drove the Sheriff, and Dean knew he could count on him. He might not understand what was happening, but he was willing to fight for those he loved.

They crossed the hall and stepped into Amelia's room. It was Dean's turn to suck in a deep breath and blow it out in a low whistle of surprise. This was the place. He knew it in his bones. This room was the key to Andrew's power.

Hundreds of candles lit the room, the sickly sweet scent was nearly overpowering. His good arm came up to cover his nose and mouth cutting off the smell. "Mirror, mirror on the wall," he chanted silently.

"What the hell…" Mike whispered. "Where do I look now the whole damn place is one big mirror?"

"Don't let your eyes rest in one place too long, if you see a face, look away… and duck," Dean added remembering Andrews vivid attack on him.

"Duck," Mike growled!

Dean had no choice but to ignore his own words. His eyes searched the mirrors, stepping closer he peered into the nearest one. He cupped his hands around his eyes effectively cutting off the light, making it easier to see what was behind the mirror, he didn't expect what he found.

They were there, they were all there, the teenagers, Christy where was Sam.

"I found them, their all here, in the mirror," he snarled. Snuffing out a candle he dragged the silver stand off the table and reared back. The force of the blow smashed the mirror, but he growled in frustration to find only a blank wall behind it. No door, no gate that would lead him inside.


	20. Chapter 20 A startling Discovery

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 20 A startling discovery**

It had to be here he knew it was here, he had only to find it. With the gun in his right hand, his left came up to lean against the mirror searching for the door.

"What do you want me to do," Mike asked quickly?

"Search the mirrors," Dean replied, "The door has got to be in this room.

"Search the mirrors," Mike grumbled beneath his breath, "How the hell do I search the mirrors?"

"Google it," Dean quipped, "How the hell do I know."

He heard Mike growl, "You're the Ghost Hunter," Mike grumbled, "Your supposed to know these things."

"What do I look like an encyclopedia of the Supernatural," he grimaced beneath his breath? "That would be Sam."

Dean chirped in surprise as his searching hand slipped from the hard face of one mirror into the watery surface of the mirrored door. He fell through unable to stop his momentum. His injured leg couldn't support the sudden change and collapsed beneath him.

Mike turned hearing a slight commotion to find only Dean's foot sticking out of the wall. "What the hell…" Grumbling he was tired of hearing himself say those words.

Crossing the room he stood in front of the door as Dean's foot slipped inside and disappeared.

Dean grunted but pushed himself back to his feet. He grinned evilly when he saw Mike standing in front of him. The initial sting of crossing through was gone, now it was someone else's turn. Starting in surprise he stared over Mike's shoulder. Across the room he saw himself clearly reflected in the mirror. Mike was not. Only the back of his left arm could be seen in the mirrored panel next to the door's reflection. He knew in an instant this was the key to destroying the doorway. Right now he had to find Sam and free the others.

Reaching out with his good hand Dean slipped it through the mirror and back into the room. Grabbing the Sheriff by the front of the shirt He pulled him through.

He heard Mike's grunt of surprise; the echo of fear sliding along the sound made Dean chuckle when he heard the strained tones of his voice muttering, "Oh Shit."

Unprepared for the pull Mike stumbled forward into the mirror and huffed with anger when he saw Dean standing on the other side. He opened his mouth to swear at the jokester.

Dean's hand came up shushing him, grinning widely at Mike's discomfort. Turning left he motioned Mike to follow. Hoping this was the way back he was unprepared for the attack and hit the ground hard when a flying body slammed into him him.

He grunted in pain ready to retaliate when he saw Sam sitting on the floor beside him. "Dammit Sammy that hurt," he grumbled.

"Sorry, thought you were him," Sam's voice was weak the darkness was creeping closer with each passing second. He managed to glare his frustration at his brother saying, "What the hell are you doing here, out of the hospital I mean," Sam chided.

"You called, I came," Dean grinned. "But I can see you didn't need me after all."

Sam cocked his head to the side in wonder, guessing that their bond now was something more than mere brotherhood. "I do need you Dean," he whispered on a choking sob, "Always have, and always will."

Dean's eyes widened, for some unaccountable reason he was torn between hugging his brother tight and dropping him on the floor. He choose neither, saying. "I'm here Sammy."

"Sam," the young hunter hissed.

Dean chuckled, back on solid ground.

Mike broke in asking, "Where is 'him'?" Reaching down, he tilted Sam's head to the side, hissing when he saw the lump and the cut behind the young man's ear.

He shrugged. "I don't know," Sam answered for the first time feeling the bump on the back of his head and the trickle of blood staining his collar. He tried climbing to his feet but his body would not respond, his knees buckled and he went down straight into Dean's arms.

"Hey kid, stay with me," Dean pleaded, but his brothers eyes were glazed with pain and clouded over. "Sam, don't pass out on me now buddy boy," Dean cajoled.

Tired eyes fluttered open, "No choice," Sam grinned.

"We've got to get the others down and out of here before he gets back," Dean whispered.

"How do you propose to do that," Mike asked as he stared at the chains binding the teenagers and Christy to the wall.

"Dream it," Sam whispered.

"Dream what," Mike grumbled.

"Watch," Sam replied faintly. With his hands outstretched he imagined the bolt cutters again and snipped quickly at the chains. But even dreaming took energy and he used the last of it to cut Christy's chains away. Sam's body went slack in Dean's arms.

Dean reached up feeling for a pulse he took a deep breath in relief when he found it, weak and thready but it was there.

Mike caught Christy as the chains binding her were cut free. Her body fell away from the wall, and floated into his waiting arms. She weighed barely anything and he could see his hands through her body as he held her close. Shaken by everything he'd seen and done Mike tried to shake his fear away, it was eating at him making him weak. He had to focus, this wasn't really a dream and people were counting on him. After experiencing this hazy world behind the mirror, he would never again question anyone's belief in ghost or vampires.

Dean stared at the four teenagers on the wall. "Get Sam and Christy out of here Sheriff while I'll figure out how to cut the others down."

"Roger," Mike whispered. Gently he picked up Sam's unconscious body, expecting the same ethereal, misty feel. He was surprised to find Sam's flesh cold and clammy unlike Christy's. Hers had been warm and silky smooth. Sam was real flesh and blood. The body he held in his other arm, Christy's was not.


	21. Chapter 21 Misty Morning

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 21 Misty morning**

The doorway was easy to see from the shadow side. Light from a hundred candles poured through the mirrored door. He stepped through taking Sam and Christy with him. He sucked in a breath when the misty form of the woman he loved glowed brightly. Eyes wide he watched it float into the room, spinning slowly upward. Christy's form continued to spin and moved away from him.

The mist seemed to stop and hover for a second before darting out the door. Mike ran, holding tight to Sam as he followed.

He came to a skidding halt beside Christy's prone body. For a few seconds the mist of Christy's soul hovered above her. He could feel the sigh of relief as soul and body were joined once more.

Christy shook, her body wrapping in on itself as she sucked in a deep breath.

"Christy," Mike whispered, "Come on baby time to wake up."

He heard her groan and saw her eyes flicker, but she didn't wake.

He wanted desperately to stay with her, but Dean was injured and still in the shadows, vulnerable to Andrew and there were four more teenagers to rescue. Gently he lay Sam down beside Christy and rushed back into Amelia's room. Taking a deep breath he plunged through the door. It was easier this time, no shock of passage greeted his body only a tingling sensation coursed through him.

Dean stood in frustration, he'd imagined scissor, a hacksaw and was about to try a chainsaw when Mike came back.

"Hurry up," Mike hissed.

"You want to give this dreaming shit a try," Dean asked sarcastically.

"Yeah," Mike snapped back.

Closing his eyes, Mike imagined a lock picking tool in his hands. Visualizing Melinda's hands and the chains and lock holding her he skillfully picked the lock. Soon one, two, three then all four locks burst free

Seeing the movement of the sheriff's hands Dean got the picture. He was pretty good at picking locks, the skill picked up from a homeless man he'd saved from a poltergeist. "Show off," Dean snarled.

Mike chuckled, catching Melinda as she floated down from her prison on the wall.

Dean didn't bother closing his eyes, but pictured his hands working the locks. The Erickson boy floated down next into Mike's waiting arms.

"Sheriff, get those two out of here, then get Sam and Christy out to the car. I'll take care of these two. Dean turned back to the wall not waiting to see if Mike would follow his orders.

Mike stood rooted to the spot not wanting to leave Dean behind alone to face Andrew if he came back.

"Go, I'll be fine," the hunter growled.

Mike went reluctantly.

oooOOOooo

I hope you like it, please R & R, hugs


	22. Chapter 22 Raging Storm

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 22 Raging storm**

"Four down two to go," Dean whispered to himself. Stepping beneath the previous years Homecoming Queen he started again. It only took a few seconds and the girl floated off the wall and into his arms. One more to go, he thought grimly. They had been lucky, Andrew or whatever creature he had become had not put in an appearance. With the girl sprawled over his left shoulder Dean went to work on the last boy's bonds. They snapped open with a sharp click.

oooOOOooo

Mike ran for the door. Knowing what to expect now his arms released his burden as he stepped through the mirror. The misty figuresrose from his arms and shoulders and scurried from the house.

He didn't stop to watch or wonder where they had gone, he already knew. It was Sam and Christy that mattered now, glancing over his shoulder wondering if leaving the tired injured hunter was such a good idea?

Startled by a groan coming from the next room, he race to find the cause. Christy was sitting up her back to the wall as she rubbed the fog from her eyes. Confusion shone in their depths as she looked at him. "Mike," she whispered.

"Can you stand up we need to get out of here before Andrew comes back."

"Yes," she whispered and managed to push herself up on wobbly knees.

Grunting with the effort Mike gathered Sam close and lifted him onto his shoulder. The Sheriff took Christy by the hand and quickly made his way out of the building.

oooOOOooo

The hair on the back of Dean's neck rose up. The enemy was coming and he was hunting. Dean was the prey! Grabbing the boy by the proverbial scruff of the neck Dean limped toward the mirrored doorway.

The air around him grew icy cold; he could feel the fury building in the dark mirrored depths. Andrew's raged filled the darkness, his words sharp and clear as he raced to intercept Dean. "They are mine, mine and you cannot have them," he screamed.

"Too late," Dean quipped as he stepped through the door.

Andrew flew through the shadows striking Dean hard in the back. The blow sent him tumbling forward the misty forms he held were set free and hovered in the air above searching for only a few seconds before they sped off seeking home. Dean rolled across the room and landed upside down against the far wall. A booted foot struck the mirror with an ominous crack. Dean opened his eyes expecting to see pieces of the mirror come tumbling at him. What he saw made him smile. Yes the mirror had cracked but not the mirror in front of him. He stared hard at the reflection in the mirror then glanced over his shoulder. The bottom edge of the mirrored doorway was cracked.

He had been right the mirrored doors reflection was the key. His booted foot kicked out once more and struck the doors reflection. A second crack appeared across the room.

Behind Dean Andrew leaped through the door trying to capture the souls Dean had freed before they could get away. When they flitted out of reach he roared in frustration and sought another target. The darkening glow separated itself from Andrew. It hovered high in the room its anger at loosing the souls fueling Andrew's rage.

He had no power to move objects in this world, but his body, honed by years of exercise was in itself a powerful weapon. Launching him across the distance Andrew slammed into Dean. Furious fists pounded at already aching ribs.

Dean twisted left and kicked upward his boot catching Andrew in the side of the head. Andrew fell backward dazed by the brutal blow a trickle of blood sliding down the side of his face. He shook his head trying to clear his vision before climbing back to his feet.

A sharp piercing cry escaped the glowing creature.

Dean was already on the move and looked up catching sight of the flickering light above his head. He sucked in a breath amazed by what he saw. The body of the creature was greenish gold. Its hair was a mass of tumbled locks with broken twigs sticking out at all angles. Tiny leaves covered its body but it was the wings, flicking angrily that gave the creatures identity away, a fairy, this one a soul shrieker. So this was the power behind Andrew. This was the cause of all the problems. They were nasty creatures and Dean had never encountered one before.

He groaned searching his mind for a way to stop the creature. Coming up blank, one thing at a time he grumbled. Picking up an overturned candle stick he smashed at the mirrored doors reflection once more.

Tiny minute cracks appeared in the reflection. Dean reared back for another blow when Andrew launched himself across the room and tackled him. They fell in a tangle of arms and legs kicking at the tables and chairs as they wrestled for control. Candles fell some of them flickered and died when the melted wax washed over them. Some of their wicks dimmed then flared brilliantly in the darkness fueled by the fresh oxygen and dark wood of the furniture.

Injured, exhausted, Dean was fast loosing ground. Andrew though slighter of build was furious and driven by insanity. Andrew had to be dealt with before he could finish closing the mirrored door.

The candlestick in his hand slammed into Andrew's stomach, driving him backwards. A flash of light from above sent Dean spinning sideways. Gasping for breath he barely managed to catch himself as Andrew came at him.

oooOOOooo

Almost there, Please R & R, thanks


	23. Chapter 23 Nemesis

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

**Chapter 23 Nemesis**

Outside Mike gently laid Sam in the grass. Though Christy was fully conscious she was still disoriented and leaned heavily against the side of the truck. Mike caught her as her knees buckled. Lifting her into his arms he settled her inside the truck before reaching for the radio.

"Beth, I need backup and an ambulance at the old Grayson place and make it quick."

"10-4 Sheriff, they are on their way, ETA, ten minutes."

"Thanks Beth," Mike sighed gratefully.

Mike stood up wanting to check on Sam when Christy reached for him. "Hold me," she whispered. "Hold me tight, don't ever let me go."

"I'm here Christy, I'm here."

A few feet away Sam struggled back to consciousness. He bolted to a sitting position looking around. 'Where was Dean,' he wondered silently. His eyes sought the house. A thin wisp of smoke filtered into the air. Pushing himself up, he stumbled toward the house, his body growing stronger with each stride. Adrenalin hot and potent pumped through his system. Soon he was running up the stairs and into Amelia's room. Dean lay on the floor struggling for breath. Andrew's hands were wrapped around his throat.

Running into the room Sam leaped the short distance smashing into Andrew.

The tight grip loosened from around Dean's neck as the three men rolled toward the mirrored door in a tangle of arms and legs.

Dean managed to untangle himself. His voice raspy he shouted at his brother. "Hold him Sam I need to take care of the doorway.

Head pounding Sam nodded and rolled to his feet Andrew close beside him. With a roar of anger Andrew charged swinging hard with his right fist. Sam ducked low punching out with a left then a right to Andrew's gut. Andrew staggered back gasping for air.

A sudden shriek from the air above him made Sam glance up. The soul shrieker was loosing his puppet. He could not hope to stand against the two hunters. They were too strong for him to control. The first was even now hammering at the mirrored doors reflection doing his best to close the gate.

The dark outline of the fairy made Sam's eyes widen in surprise. One last shriek sent the glowing form streaking from the room – gone, but not forgotten.

Another shriek of anger this time from Andrew drew Sam's attention back to the fight. Andrew drove in loosing all sense of caution as his rage took over.

He came high and Sam dropped to the floor and kicked upward. His right foot caught Andrew in the chest. Andrew's momentum carried him into a high arc over Sam and through the mirrored doorway into the shadows behind.

Andrew screamed in pain as the sharp pieces of the broken mirror cut into his arms and neck. He wasn't done yet. Rolling into the shadows he leaped to his feet and into the door.

Dean hit the mirrored doors reflection. It was a spider web of cracks. With a final swing he aimed for the mirror itself not the reflection. He heard the roar as the mirrored door exploded. He turned to find Sam and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Find cover, its going to blow."

Sam leaped backward into the corner of the room away from the blast but not before he caught sight of Andrew as he tried to come through the mirror. He dropped into a ball protecting his face from the explosion

Andrew's eyes were wide with shock and fear. He was caught in the mirrored door now. The spider web of lines had captured the doors energy holding him tightly within its strands. Andrew was unable to come through or go back. All around him he could feel the energy building, tearing at him before it finally exploded. Pieced of the mirror were flung into the room, his horror filled reflection forever reflected in the mirror.

Directly in front of the doorway Dean was caught in the blast. The explosion threw him backwards and showered him with sharp pieces of glass. He hit the wall hard and dropped like a stone to the hard glassy surface of the floor. The dark abyss of unconsciousness seized him.

Sam moaned and rolled away from the wall and the hot flames of the candles that were now out of control. They licked at the dark heavy curtains devouring them as the fire crept higher. The glossy surface of the wooden furniture simmered and bubbled from the heat. The wall behind the bed was in flames, the mirrors melting away the dry wood behind them catching quickly - feeding the fire's hunger.

Crawling the few feet to his brother's side Sam didn't have time for niceties. The fire was licking at their heels. Smoke was hovering in the room drawing close with each breath he took. He coughed but ignored the burning in his lungs as he lifted Dean to his shoulder.

Staggering beneath the weight Sam stumbled from the room his precious burden still and silent.

**oooOOOooo**

Mike looked down in surprise, Sam was gone.

"Christy, I have to leave for a few minutes, Sam and Dean need help."

Releasing her hold on him she nodded through misty eyes. "Find them Mike, bring them back."

Swearing softly Mike ran. The smoke was rising in a thick billowy cloud from the side of the house. He didn't have time to call for a fire truck, he had to find them. He started up the stairs only to see Sam coming down and sighed in relief.

Sam had a death grip on the railing, his knees trembled his head was spinning like a top but he couldn't let anything stop him. Startled Sam nearly went down when Mike stepped close.

"I've got you Sam," he whispered.


	24. Chapter 24 Disconcerted

**Soul Survivors**

**By **

**Valtira**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did. Let me know what you think, if you liked, hated etc.

**Epilogue**

**Chapter 24 Disconcerted**

He groaned loudly, his eyes fluttering open. Bright sunlight filtered through the drawn blinds. His eyes widened in surprise and silent horror as he spied the colorful array strewn around the room. Flowers, there had to be hundreds of flowers in the room he mussed silently. It was a strange sight and Dean twisted his lips in a wry grin. Beneath the surface emotions that were foreign to him rolled to the surface. He bit back the tears thinking, it's only the pain that was making him weepy.

Sam saw the movement and grinned at his brothers' confused expression

"Where the hell am I a florists' shop," Dean growled.

"In the hospital," Sam answered in amusement.

"I hate hospitals," Dean groused.

"I know, you've told me that a dozen times."

"You don't seem to be listening," Dean growled. "Why am I still here?"

Sam doused his amusement and told him, "Because you've got two broken ribs, a serious concussion and more bruises than a bad apple. Plus you've been unconscious for four days."

Dean snorted and wished he hadn't as a stab of pain tore through him.

Turning serious for a moment Sam's voice was choked with emotion. "The teenagers are safe Dean, they all regained consciousness when their souls were returned to them. You did it!"

"We did it Sammy boy," Dean whispered.

Sam acknowledged his brothers' words but his throat was choked with emotion and he dare not say anything lest Dean catch on and rib him about his girlish ways.

"They held a meeting in the town hall two days. The flowers are from a grateful town. For some reason they see you and I as heroes, can you believe it. They've decided to adopt us."

It had been more than that. Sam had also spent two days in the hospital. Even now his aching head troubled him, but he didn't complain. Mike had called the meeting. Too many people wanted to know what had happened. Its not that they weren't grateful, because they were, but they wanted, no needed to know what had gone wrong in their quiet little town.

Mike had told them. A few had whispered in quiet disbelief, wondering if their Sheriff had imbibed too much. Most had sat quietly, listening to his words. Andrew had visited more than the Homecoming Kings and Queens.

"Will he ever come back," the quiet voices whispered.

"No." Mike answered quietly. Sam had told him of Andrew's destruction and the Soul Shrieker. He didn't want to scare them, didn't want to tell them of the dark fairy, the soul shrieker that had controlled Andrew. They wouldn't understand. For now, the threat was gone, their children were safe. If the darkness descended on their little town again Mike would be ready.

Sam smiled knowing Dean was having a hard time wrapping his mind and emotions around the current state of events. No one was going to run them out of town, the opposite in fact. They had been invited to stay rest and recover.

Dean grumbled beneath his breath until his eyes lit upon the blue roses on the table beside the bed. He squinted trying to read the little white card hanging down. A warm flush rose into his cheeks. The words were simple, "I'll be waiting." he didn't need to know who had signed it. Although the large swirling B printed at the bottom was a dead give away to anyone else who might be interested.

oooOOOooo

Ten miles away the forest shook with rage. The Soul Shrieker dreamed of revenge.

End of Line


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